


Can't Pretend

by ALCzysz17



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Actually Cousins, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon series deaths, Cersei teaches Sansa through touch, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Half-Sibling Incest, Jamie fulfills his promise to Catelyn, Melisandre meddling, Mildly Dubious Consent, No Night King, No White Walkers, Plot Driven, R Plus L Equals J, Sansa leaves KL, Slight Cersei/Sansa first chapter only, Vaginal Fingering, jonsa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2019-07-13 18:41:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16023713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALCzysz17/pseuds/ALCzysz17
Summary: During her time in King's Landing, Sansa learns something about herself that changes her perspective on life and her feelings regarding Jon Snow. On her journey North though, complications arise, tensions are caused and the pathway to home for Sansa is paved with more trouble than she initially thought.“Remember, Sansa, sometimes the only pleasure you get is from your family…”"I guess that's love, I can't pretend, I can't pretend..." Tom Odell





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kingsnow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingsnow/gifts).



> So, I have been working on this story for quite awhile. This like 'Complete' was originally written for '30 days of Jonsa' but just never got finished on time. I worked out a general plot, and this will be 6 chapters long. I have the first three chapters done though I am revising and adding bits here and there to lengthen the story some. There is no Night King/White Walkers in this story, that's the biggest canon-divergence, including some others, but I won't spoil ya! 
> 
> *I am working on chapter 4 for 'The Sacrifice' and I am very close to finishing it, but I'm having a little issue getting certain scenes written down, plotwise. I'm hoping in the next few days to have it finished and posted!
> 
> Gifted: kingsnow (bravegentlestrong) because I absolutely love your Jonsa drawings, they are just the best! I also love your writing (though I've been a slackass on reading at the moment)! I hope you like this story I am dedicating to you, it's a bit different but I thought you might enjoy it!
> 
> Title: Can't Pretend by Tom Odell
> 
> P.S - If y'all are wondering, I literally am just gifting stories that I think people would like, either for writers I enjoy reading from, or reviewers of my own works. There is not reason or rhyme on how I choose, I kind of randomly pick on occasion, or think a certain writer (as I read their writing and learn their interests for the pairing) would like, or reviewer depending on the stories of mine they frequent. Please, please, if you would like to be on the list of random people to get gifted a Jonsa story then let me know on here or tumblr! Seriously! Or if you have a story idea you want written, please send an 'ask' to my tumblr, sometimes when I get writers block, writing something else as a oneshot of sorts can help me clear my mind on my other writing. 
> 
> Enjoy! ^_~

 

 

The things she endured during her time in King’s Landing would always stay with her, be it the marks upon her body, or the marks placed on her mind and soul. There was no escape from the darkness that surrounded her since her father’s death. She didn’t want it to taint her soul, make her just as dark as the people around her so she became lost.

But one can only be lost for so long…

Sansa watched fearfully as Cersei drank from her wine glass, eyes closed as she relished the favor hitting her tongue and the alcohol dulling her senses. The older woman had taken her aside after a beating from the Kings guard under Joffrey’s command. Her back radiated pain and throbbed painfully against the fabric of her dress and bodice. She sat straight up, trying to keep her back from touching the chair as she waited.

After another large gulp of the golden liquid did Cersei open her green eyes to take her in. She smiled beyond the rim of the glass, a gleam in her eye that didn’t sit well with Sansa. Her fingers fiddled with the skirt of her dress, her nerves bubbling uncomfortably inside her belly. There was no telling what she would do.

“How are you feeling, child?” Cersei asked sweetly as though she actually cared. Sansa highly doubted it.

“I am well, your grace,” Sansa mumbled softly, diverting her eyes down to the floor.

“You took quite the beating earlier, I doubt you are feeling well.” Sansa bit the inside of her cheek as she merely nodded. “You would love nothing more than go home, wouldn’t you?” Cersei asked in that same tone, that same falsehood twine around her words. They were lies, tone and expression. Everything and everyone in King’s Landing were lies and liars.

“Yes, your grace.” She knew that wouldn’t happen, that the older woman was merely playing a game with her, thinking her a fool that still believed in the kindness of others. That Sansa died the day her father’s head was disconnected from his body. She’d pretend though, make them think that and underestimate her until she could make an escape.

“Well little dove, we can’t always get what we want. You will have to learn to make do with the hand that life has dealt you. We, as women, have no choice but to listen to men, do as they please and,” Cersei took a more considerate sip in pause before continuing, “do them as they please.” Sansa pursed her lips together as a queasiness came over her. She didn’t much like where this conversation was going.

“You will learn in the long run that taking pleasure where you can will be the only way to survive,” Cersei said with a tightness in her tone as she bore her stare into Sansa’s eyes. Her mouth moved before she could stop it.

“Is that why you chose Ser Jamie?” Sansa felt her eyes widen and her mouth fall open in shock at her bold words. Cersei reacted quickly, her wine doing nothing to slow her movements as she slapped Sansa across the face.

“You do not have a right to say that to me! You don’t even understand what you said, you stupid, little girl! You will learn in time though.” Cersei fell back into her chair, downing the rest of her wine like a dehydrated man would water before allowing the glass to clack hard against the surface of the side table to her right. “Sometimes little dove, family will be your only greatest pleasure…”

Sansa wasn’t sure she understood what she meant, but she nodded anyway. Her cheek joined the throbbing of the rest of her body, a taste of blood touched her tongue from where the canine of her teeth cut into her cheek upon impact. She couldn’t imagine doing what a husband and wife do with her brother Robb, or even her half-brother Jon. The thought left her feeling even more sick than before, to imagine kissing either boy as her father had to her mother. It was wrong, it was deplorable, and it was improper.

Cersei started doing that every time Sansa took a beating for her brother’s triumph in battle against the Lannister forces. She would take her aside and give her little pieces of advice that she didn’t exactly want but listened because she had no choice in the matter.

She had to cradle herself forward one day because of the hits upon her back, there were even a few directed to her bum that made siting painful as well. Cersei eyed her over, scoffing at her bad posture though she didn’t say a word of it.

“If you wish to not hurt in pain then you should welcome it,” Cersei advised behind her fingers as she cupped her chin thoughtfully.

“What?” Sansa questioned in shock, her cheeks coloring at what the queen regent was suggesting. A smirk stretched her lips longer upon her face.

“You heard me, little dove. Think of something pleasurable when they strike you, it will help to alleviate the pain and make it more endurable for you.” Sansa sucked in her bottom lip as she thought about her words.

“Are you speaking that from experience?” she asked though she knew she might be slapped for it. Cersei’s brow dropped down immediately, but she didn’t jump up to slap her like last time.

“Pain can be pleasurable, if you let it. In my experience,” she arched a brow at her as she continued, “thinking of something that makes you happy, or arousing helps to bear the pain.”

Sansa wasn’t so sure, again she wondered why she was receiving this counseling from Cersei Lannister of all people. She nodded her head, accepting the advice though she had no intention of using it.

Or so she thought…

Cersei’s words echoed in her ear as the first hit came down on her side. Her skin burst into pain, immediately throbbing as it welted. Sansa closed her eyes as tears watered within them, it hurt too much to think of anything happy. She opened her watery eyes to see the queen regent smiling at her, giving just a hint of a nod.

Sansa closed her eyes and imagined making snow angels in the snow at Winterfell, the happiness she felt when snow sprinkled throughout her hair as she embraced the cold. A hit was directed at her lower back and though it hurt just as badly as the first, it didn’t linger inside her mind anymore. Her heart fluttered upon another hit, this one just on the edge of her bum that made a trickle of pleasure between her legs.

Joffrey said something obscene, his voice snaring as another hit was placed to her upper back then another right on her left butt cheek. Sansa fell to her hands and knees, tears leaking from her clenched eyes but the moan that left her lips wasn’t in pain; not entirely.

She was offered a glass of Arbor Gold when Cersei took her away, her reward for taking the woman’s advice. Sansa sipped at the golden liquid slowly, enjoying the taste as it went down her throat.

“It gets easier the more you allow yourself to enjoy the pain,” Cersei commented lightly, sipping her own glass as she gazed over at her. Sansa wasn’t sure she should try to enjoy the pain, more so endure it than anything else. Enjoying it seemed redundant since she didn’t want the pain in the first place.

“Won’t King Joffrey get mad if I enjoy it?” Sansa inquired as she took a large gulp of wine, swishing it around her mouth as she slowly allowed it to slip down her throat. The alcohol was warming her body from the inside out, made her think less of the pain she had just endured on her body.

“That is where you play pretend, don’t let the punisher know you enjoy the punishment otherwise they grow bored,” Cersei counseled sagely. She then cocked her head to the side in thought. “Have you touched yourself yet?”

Sansa choked on the wine, leaning over her knees to cough towards the ground as heat exploded in her face and down her neck. When she looked up there was amusement in the older woman’s eyes, her lips twisted in something that resembled a smile but darker.

“Beg your pardon?” Cersei chuckled lightly, sipping her wine in glee.

“Have you touched your cunt yet little dove?” Sansa quickly shook her head.

“Septa Mordane said it was depraved and against the Gods to do such a thing,” Sansa stated as she remembered the woman telling her to never touch herself between her legs. It was only meant for her husband to place his cock and to produce heirs. Cersei rolled her eyes at the explanation.

“If that were true then you would not find pleasure there. Now, if you really want to make it through the pain you should start touching your cunt,” Cersei smiled devilishly, leaning forwards in interest. “There’s a little bump at the top of your cunt’s entrance, a nub that gives you pleasure. Touch it, find what works to make you feel that pleasure then imagine being hit while doing so.”

“I don’t know…” Sansa felt faint and she wasn’t sure if it was the wine or Cersei’s lewd advice. The idea to touch herself there, it felt wrong, and then to image being hit while doing so…she was starting to feel green around the gills at the thought.

Cersei stared at her for a moment as she thought then the woman was standing up. Sansa flinched back, expecting a strike across her face but none came. She merely walked over to stand behind her chair, placing her hands on the top of the seat. Sansa turned her head up to see the older woman towering over her. She gave a comforting smile that made her more uncomfortable.

“Spread your legs, little dove,” Cersei instructed lightly though there was a sternness in her tone, she’d do best not to disobey. Slowly, she spread her legs as far as the arms of the chair would allow. “Good, now close your eyes and think of something nice, something that gives you shivers.”

Sansa bit her lip as she slowly closed her eyes. She wasn’t sure she liked where this was going, but she knew better than to fight Cersei on it. She’d much rather not go the next few days with a fat lip or swollen cheek. She thought about Winterfell again, thought about seeing her mother and father and siblings. A small smile came to her lips as she thought about the fun they use to have. Sansa jumped when she felt her skirts being tugged up into her lap, revealing more and more of her stockings and legs.

“Relax, breathe, think of something sweet and follow my lead,” Cersei said in a deeper tone of voice, huskier as she whispered it in her ear. Sansa swallowed hard, pushing away the queasiness in her stomach as she felt her hand being enclosed in Cersei’s.

She conjured up more images of her family, of running through the godswood as they played. Her fingers were dragged up from her knees towards her thighs, a shiver ran down her spine. The image of her playing as a princess as Robb and Jon fought Theon who played the monster. Sansa let out a shudder of breath as her hand encountered her smallclothes.

“Fabric gives nice friction, but the touch of skin to skin is much, much nicer,” Cersei spoke soothingly in her ear, tugging her skirts out of the way and placing their joined hands at the edge of her smallclothes. Sansa brought up more images of the play fighting as she felt her smallclothes’ string come undone and air hitting her most intimate place.

She felt the frizzy hair on her mound, dry and curly against her fingers as she was directed. Cersei mumbled something about her cunt being pink and cute, a shiver shook her body. Sansa remembered a time that Jon played her hero, Aemon the Dragonknight. He saved her as his Queen Naerys, he was so courageous and heroic. He had taken her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers that made her blush.

The touch of her fingers slipping down towards her open cunt felt nice. Sansa sighed as her fingers were directed to slip through the folds of her sex. It was only slightly wet, almost sticky feeling as her fingers and Cersei’s touched the soft skin there. Jon had looked up at her with dark, hooded eyes as though she were as beautiful as the Targaryen Queen, his lips lingered on her hand and she hadn’t once thought to pull away.

“Right there, that’s where you feel the most pleasure,” Cersei purred into her ear. Their fingers encountered the nub the older woman had spoken of, the touch sent zings of pleasure through her cunt and body. It was like nothing she had ever felt before. “Does it feel good, little dove?”

“Yes,” Sansa sighed as she leaned back against the chair, ignoring the pain in her back, and following the movement Cersei directed as they touched around the nub, lightly rubbing along the sides of it.

Sansa remembered Jon standing up, her hand still within his. Cersei trailed their fingers down to run along the slit to her entrance, finding more sticky wetness there. She heard the woman hum in approval. She pushed Sansa’s index finger down, so it dipped just inside, feeling the soft, plush muscles within. A moan whispered from her lips. Jon had been standing so close, they were almost chest to chest as she gazed up at him and he down at her.

“What are you thinking of, little dove?” Cersei asked softly, bringing their sticky fingers back to her nub to brush against it, sending more jolts of pleasure through her young body.

“Playing knights and princesses with my brothers.” Jon was breathing deeply, his eyes seemingly searching her. They were so dark, darker than the normal dark grey he had. Sansa remembers feeling apprehension, but also anticipation. Of what she couldn’t say.

“Both?”

“Jon played Aemon the Dragonknight, he saved me as his Queen Naerys,” she iterated, moaning as their fingers started to rub circles around her nub. There was a tugging at the top of her bodice then it was loosened up.

“Your teats aren’t only for babes, touch your nipples,” Cersei insisted, grabbing her other hand to bring it up to her chest. Her bodice was pulled down then she was covering her breast with her hand and Cersei’s overtop. “Did he save you?”

“Yes,” Sansa moaned, feeling first the older woman’s fingers pinch her budding nipple then her fingers following pursuit. Jon was too close, he was invading her space, her sight, her nose. She had placed her hand on his chest, over his heart to feel the pounding inside. It was beating just as quickly as hers.

“You’re very wet, little dove. What happened after he saved you?” Cersei asked, mildly intrigued as she manipulated her fingers though really at this point Sansa needed no encouragement. Vaguely, she wondered why she hadn’t done this before.

“He kissed my fingers like a true knight.” Her nub was starting to throb strangely, a pressure was building in her abdomen. Her breathing was becoming harsher and she couldn’t help but rut her hips forward into their fingers as she tugged on her nipple.

“Is that all he did?”

No, Sansa thought, something else happened…

Sansa curled her fingers into his black jerkin, closing her teeth over her bottom lip nervously. Jon was suddenly closer, much closer than was appropriate. Her throat was dry as he inched closer, impulse made her lean up and kiss his cheek. Cersei’s hands were gone from her body, now it was her fingers rubbing rough circles on top of her nub and it was her fingers grasping her soft breast and tweaking her harden nipple.

Her kiss wasn’t entirely on his cheek, she touched the edge of his lips when she did. Sansa moaned loudly, slouching in the chair as she pushed her hips up into her moving fingers. The pressure kept building and building, edging closer to something.

“What did he do next, little dove?” Cersei asked from across the room, probably back in her chair again, watching Sansa pleasure herself openly. She was sure the woman had her wine glass back in her hand, sipping it too.

“I kissed his cheek,” Sansa murmured, sighing with her mouth hung open as the pressure dominated her abdomen. She moved her index and middle finger until her nub was between them then pinched. She heard Cersei gasp breathlessly.

“Go on.”

Sansa had pulled back from Jon, embarrassment flushing her cheeks as she hadn’t meant to kiss that close to his lips. She didn’t get far. Sansa gasped loudly, her memories coming back to her as she pinched her nipple so hard it hurt.

“He…” His hand was on the nape of her neck, tugging her back up to him.

“He…” There was nothing but black in his eyes, the dark grey gone.

“He…” Sansa subconsciously puckered her lips.

“He kissed me…on the lips…”

Jon pulled her up to him, their lips meeting in a soft, sweet kiss. Her first kiss. Sansa had puckered her lips for it, she knew it was coming from the look in his gaze and she wanted it. She wanted her bastard, half-brother to kiss her on the lips. The tantalizing touch of his soft, slightly chapped lips on her plush ones was everything she thought a kiss should be. His fingers knead the nape of her neck, relaxing her into the kiss between them.

The soft, sponge touch of his tongue startled her into opening her mouth to him. She had only gotten a sweet brush of his tongue to hers before she heard shouting. Theon was staring at the two in disgust. He declared that he would tell Lord Stark and ran. Jon left her in a hurry after the Greyjoy.

If memory served her right Jon had gotten to Theon first and beat him to a bloody pulp and resulted in the poor relationship between the two for moons later. Sansa had been two and ten, Jon was five and ten.

Sansa keen as the pressure crescendo into white sheering pleasure that quaked her whole body, her fingers continued to rub her nub before it truly hurt beyond the pain and stopped. It took her a full minute to breathe somewhat properly before she opened her eyes.

Cersei was indeed back in her chair, wine glass in hand though her eyes were glossy, and her cheeks were flushed as she gazed at her. Sansa glanced down her body to see her breasts bared and her cunt spread wide open for the older woman to see. Quickly she closed her legs, moaning at the squishy touch of her wet thighs pressed together and her folds closing around her throbbing nub. She adjusted her bodice to cover her small breasts again.

“You asked not so long ago if I choose Jamie because that is where I take my pleasure when I can, you looked at me with disgust when you asked that with judging eyes. Now, I ask you, what made you think you were any better? Jamie and I are mirrors of each other as twins, we complete each other, but what of you and your bastard brother? What completes you two together?”

Sansa felt at a loss for words. She hadn’t even remembered that happened, had blocked it from her mind and forced herself to forget it. She remembered that had been the last time she played that game with Jon, or at all for that matter. They were too old for those game she had told herself, but really had that been the reason, or the excuse? Sansa swallowed drily, glancing at her empty wine glass forlornly.

Cersei took pity on her.

“Here, I think you need it more.” She handed off the rest of her wine glass where Sansa drained the liquid rapidly, quenching her dried throat and cooling her burning belly. Cersei then waved her away, allowing her to leave with some dignity left.

Before she escaped though, the older woman left her with some parting words: “Remember, Sansa, sometimes the only pleasure you get is from your family…”

\--------------------------------------

There was nothing but shame welling inside her chest that night as she viciously rubbed at the bump, forcing jolts of pleasure through her as she remembered the kiss Jon gave her. She was disgusted with herself, but it was the only pleasurable thing done to her. She peaked with Jon’s name on her tongue and her nub throbbing from the beating it took. Sansa stared up at the ceiling as tears welled in her eyes.

What was wrong with her?

Was she sick? Was it some kind of sickness that she somehow caught, maybe from Cersei? No, that couldn’t be because the incident happened back in Winterfell only three short years earlier. Sansa curled up into a ball, burying her face into her knees as she allowed her tears to fall freely. It wasn’t right what she had done with Jon, it wasn’t right that she pleasured herself and thought of it so fondly, so sweetly.

He was her brother, her bastard half-brother born from her father’s mistake with another woman. Maybe it was Jon? Sansa remembered hearing that bastards had the sin of lustfulness in their veins from being born out of wedlock. Yet that seemed like she was using him to escape her own decisions now. Jon wasn’t here telling her to think of him and their kiss while she touched herself. It wasn’t his fault she found joy in her forgotten memory.

Sansa pulled her covers up over her head as though she was trying to shield herself from the rest of the world. Maybe this was a fluke, a one-time event that will go away once morning comes? She could only hope as such, but something told her that wouldn’t be the case.

What was wrong with her?...

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...I have to say, Cersei was truly entertaining to write here. I know it borders the non-con side and all, but I thought it'd be an interesting scene of Cersei teaching Sansa to masturbate, but also it brings back a forgotten memory too! I will inform y'all that this is literally the last scene involving Cersei like this. There are mentions, but nothing graphic like this (sorry if this made ya feel uncomfortable). In a few days I'll have chapter 2 posted and hopefully get the rest of the chapters written and done too. 
> 
> Thank y'all for reading and let me know whatcha think!?
> 
> *And if you want to be on a list for a Jonsa story gift, or have an idea for a story you want written (oneshot wise) then send me an 'ask' on tumblr (same name) or mention in the review that you wanted to be added to the gift list! ^_~


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, an update!! So, I fear a lot of you are going to be disappointed by this update. I say that because many of you seem to enjoy Cersei's interactions with Sansa in the first chapter, and truly, I liked writing it, but for the sake of what this story is about...that first chapter is literally the last of their interactions together. I touch briefly on it in the first few paragraphs, but otherwise that's it. I'm sorry if that's disappointing, it's why Cersei/Sansa wasn't put up as a relationship of sorts.
> 
> I do hope you like this next installment though! I added more to the chapter to beef it up from 2400 words to 4k. 
> 
> Enjoy!! ^_~

 

 

Cersei’s lessons continued. Sansa learned to take pleasure from the beatings she got in court, her cunt pulsating from the blows and nub crying for attention as she bore each hit. Holding in the moans and pleasurable whimpers was hard, but the tears that leaked from her eyes came with ease. Half of her felt guilty for finding anything enjoyable about the beatings she took while the other half was relieved to feel something that wasn’t entirely painful.

Sansa learned more from Cersei about the pleasures of the body, more than she did from her mother or Septa Mordane. She wasn’t sure how to take the lessons she was more or less forced to participate in. Cersei was still Cersei, always finding fault within Sansa and enjoying pointing them out with her tormenting and cruelty, yet the older woman seemed strangely fond of her and found something akin to enjoyment from the lessons of pleasure she gave to Sansa.

She wondered if she reminded the queen regent of herself when she was young, naive and impressionable. Sansa played up the part to keep the skin on her back, but she wondered what exactly Cersei got out of all this. Maybe it was easier not to wonder though? Easier to soak in all that she could so she could survive this living nightmare she was unfortunately apart of.

So, she explored the sexual side of her body with Cersei’s help. Sansa found that her nipples were like beacons for pleasure, she loved tugging them outward, pinching them until they redden and puckered. Cersei told her how much she’d enjoy a man’s mouth on her teats then demonstrated with her own lips. The sharp edge of her teeth cutting into her nipple was simultaneously painful and pleasurable.

She learned the shape and folds of her cunt with both fingers and sight. Cersei placed a small mirror between her legs, so she could see exactly what she looked like down below. Sansa found her body strange; curious yet strange. In the beginning she could only fit one finger inside her, feeling along her spongy walls; again strange. Before long Sansa could stick two fingers inside her cunt, pump them in and out to bring herself to climax as her other hand pinched her nub. She learned that rubbing her nub on hard surfaces brought lovely friction as Cersei made her rub her naked cunt on the edge of the arm chair she sat in once. All of it felt so nice, so good even if it was Cersei Lannister that was teaching her all of this.

Slowly, Sansa started to disregard why she seemed fixated on Jon and his kiss, pushing away her disgust with herself as she started imaging things that never happened between them. What if Jon came upon her bathing in the hot springs? Would he kiss her lips then her teats? Would he finger her nub, her cunt? What if she went to him during the night claiming a nightmare? She had done it many times with Robb though it was only sleeping they did. Could she have convinced Jon to rub her to climax, so she could sleep through the night?

The images that rolled around her head made her feel faint at night, made her crave the pleasure she found by Cersei’s insistences, made her crave getting hit. Though she would prefer the hits on her bum and with a hand (Jon’s hand) than her back and steel. More and more, Sansa craved for it, there wasn’t a night she didn’t rut her hips into her pumping fingers. Many nights found her naked as her name day while she found her peak with her legs spread wide as she rutted her hips to her moving fingers.

It made things so much easier while captured in King’s Landing, it made being Joffrey’s betroth easier too. Though Jon was at the Wall, he helped to make her life worth living down in the South. It was so strange for her because the thought of Robb doing the things she wanted Jon to do to her brought her nothing but the initial disgust she felt when she had first learned of Cersei and Jaime Lannister. Yet with Jon…her heart rate sped up and she grew wet between her legs at the mere thought.

Was it because she never once thought of Jon as a true brother to her? She never held the same sisterly feelings towards him as she did Robb, Bran and Rickon. Though she had cared for Jon, but not in the same regard or vein. Maybe it was that distance between them that made things easier to forget, like the fact that they were siblings even if by half?

Sansa would lie awake at night, pondering the reasons for her actions and thoughts as the wetness on her thighs cooled, the sweat on her skin dried, and her nub stopped throbbing to the beat of her heart. She knew it was wrong, the way she used Jon and his memory, and even more so, how forbidden the whole act was, yet she couldn’t stop herself. It was the one thing that kept her going, to make it through the day knowing she could hide underneath her covers at night and think of him as she brought singing pleasure through her veins.

Was it truly so wrong when it helped her carry on?

She liked to think it wasn’t, but sometimes she pondered that same question since the first night.

What was wrong with her?...

\--------------------------------------

Everything had happened so fast.

The battle of the Blackwater happened, and Stannis failed, Margaery Tyrell came and stole her betrothal with Joffrey (not that she minded), and they became good friends. Cersei still played with her though, insisted on watching Sansa moan Jon’s name and touch herself.

“It’s our little secret,” Cersei would whisper in her ear while stroking her stiffened nipples as Sansa had her legs hanging over the chair’s arms and rubbing briskly against her nub.

Their little secret. Their secret of loving their brothers like lovers. Sansa wondered how truly different she was from Cersei. Was Cersei what she would become if she stayed here? With Joffrey betrothed to another, that left Sansa free to marry whomever, or forced into a different marriage.

Knowing how much Cersei had grown attached to her, Sansa knew if she were forced into another betrothal, it would be with someone close to her, so she could keep Sansa underneath her control. Though she had grown use to the lessons with the queen regent, Sansa did not want to stay where she was and only wished for an escape.

Margaery had offered up her elder brother, Willas Tyrell, insisting how sweet he was despite his leg and his comely appearance. Sansa just wanted to go home though, to her mother and her brothers and…to Jon.

Then Jamie Lannister had come to her one night. Thankfully, she hadn’t started her nightly ritual yet. He looked ragged, hair longer than normal with a shaggy beard, and he was missing a hand. He told her that he was here to take her back to her family.

Sansa almost told him ‘no’, she almost shouted for help because it just seemed too good to be true. Cersei had to be behind this, testing Sansa’s loyalty after Joffrey dropped her for Margaery. It had to be a trick, a game the older woman was playing and had her twin brother/lover in on it, and yet it was true. Jamie pulled her along, sneaking her out of the Red Keep swiftly where they met up with a tall woman by the name of Brienne of Tarth and a young round-faced man named Podrick Payne. Jamie stated to the woman that his end of deal was done and they better hurry along.

She learned about the pact Brienne had made with her mother, the assurance that she would be home soon, safe and sound. Sansa wasn’t so sure about all that. She couldn’t help but glance behind them every so often, imaging a thousand horses with Lannister knights coming after them, but each time she looked, she found no such thing behind them.

The ride was hard, long and tiring. Brienne had no off button, she kept going regardless if it was hailing and storming out. Sansa liked that she wouldn’t have to wait long to be home while the other half wanted nothing more than to sleep for a week, maybe two.

When the banners for House Stark came into view, her heart soared. She clung to Brienne as they road up to the encampment. The embrace of her mother was everything she hoped for. Tears were plentiful though Robb tried to hide it behind his Kingly exterior. Sansa met his wife, Talisa and watched the way they interacted with each other. It warmed her heart to see her brother find love and it also gave her hope for the future of House Stark and her own.

She slept curled up in bed with her mother, telling her in the shadow of darkness the terrible things that happened in King’s Landing. She opted to keep the extra lessons Cersei had given her and the revelation of her wicked feelings for Jon to herself. Sansa knew how her mother felt about him, she even admitted how relieved she was that he was at the Wall and could not harm her children’s claim, or any grandchildren later on. Sansa felt warm and safe in her mother’s arms at night, but in her mind, she wished it were Jon’s arms instead.

There didn’t seem to be a moment where Sansa didn’t wonder about her half-brother at the Wall. She and Robb would sit together when there was a moment of downtime and Talisa was not feeling well due to her pregnancy. They talked of better days, of the fun they use to have, and the chaos they caused in Winterfell.

“Jon, Theon, and I had to practice our swings for almost two hours for taking those blunted swords behind Ser Rodrick’s back,” Robb laughed loudly, slapping his thigh as he swallowed a large gulp of ale. Sansa was seated beside him, her arms wrapped around her knees while listening to him tell her about the time they had stolen blunted swords to play ‘Knight’s and Monsters’.

“That was when you all played together?” Sansa inquired, her mind bringing back the moment in time when she and Jon kissed, and Theon witnessed it. Her brother nodded, sobering up.

“Aye, yes, before Jon and Theon grew to hate each other even more. I still don’t know what happened between them…” Robb wavered off, staring into the fire. She knew, it was what he did to Theon that tipped into the utter distain they had for each other.

“How do you think Jon is doing?” Sansa asked lightly, dropping her chin on top of her knees. She glanced at Robb to see him arching a brow at her.

“Well…I assume he would be doing fine. I bet he’s already making ranger as we speak! Before long we’ll all be home and safe, and then he and uncle Benjen will come to visit, it’ll be like the old days,” Robb said wistfully, his eyes slightly glazed. Sansa couldn’t help the soft smile on her lips at the thought, hoping and wishing that what her brother said would be the truth.

She missed them all. Her little brothers and Arya. A terrible ache came over her chest at the thought of her little sister. Where was she now? Was she alive, or was she dead? Arya was tough, Sansa knew that very well, if anyone could survive in this world, it was most certainly her. Yet, she was still a little girl too.

A hand wrapped around her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Sansa turned to smile at her older brother, reaching up to grasp at his fingers and give him a squeeze back.

“Things will get better, Sansa. You’re here now, and soon Arya will be found then we can finish this war and go home. It won’t ever be the same without father, but at least we’ll have everyone else safely at home.” She hummed her agreement, leaning her head down to press her cheek against his hand on her shoulder.

Sansa hoped that was the case, she so truly hoped…

She spent a fortnight with them before her mother sent her and Brienne back to Winterfell to be with her little brothers. Robb tried to persuade both their mother and his wife to go with them, but both resisted heavily. In the end, she was leaving with Brienne and Pod, leaving the family she had just gotten back behind once more. Sansa tried to keep from clinging tightly to her mother before she left, tears welling in her eyes as the thought that this could be the very last time she was held by her mother.

Robb held Sansa just as tightly as she held him, whispering in her ear how they would be all together again soon. He promised her with the tightest of hugs and she believed him, believed the conviction in his voice. Yet, there was a little voice in the back of her mind asking her, should she?

Sansa was saddened when there was no sign of Arya before her escape nor during her time with her brother’s camp. Brienne promised that once Sansa was safely tucked within Winterfell’s walls, that she would stop at nothing in locating Arya. There was so much belief and certainty in the Lady Knight’s tone that Sansa was assured that it would happen.

It was another hard ride up the Kingsroad to Winterfell though it was dragged on longer than Brienne had wanted yet Pod was ever optimistic. A late summer rainstorm delayed them heavily, washing out the main road and stalling their progress. Though Sansa hated continuing in the downpour, she was all for it, but Pod insisted that they stop until the next day. The horses need to rest, and it wouldn’t do for any of them to catch a cold now.

All three looked like drowned rats, soaked to the bones, and shivering in the cool air, and cold rain. Brienne was reluctant to stop, but her squire made a good point.

Sansa snuggled near the fire, a hood pulled over her head to soak the water from her hair as they waited out the storm at an Inn along the Kingsroad. There were many people loitering about the Inn, chatting and eating. She smiled at the liveliness, enjoying the atmosphere around her though she couldn’t wait to get to bed. Brienne would sleep on the floor and Pod would sleep at the door, the first to be alerted if anyone came in. She would have to wait until both were asleep to relieve herself.

She rubbed her thighs together underneath her cloak, wishing she could go up now with some privacy, but it wasn’t smart to go alone during the wars. Instead her mind moved to think about her little brothers in Winterfell, she wondered how Bran was getting along without the use of his legs. He had been still small when she left, maybe she could give him piggyback rides like before when he was a tot? Maybe he’d enjoy that? Her mind then thought of little Rickon, how much bigger the littlest one probably was now.

Yet as all thoughts of brothers came to her, the one she thought of the most lately was never far behind. Sansa wondered how Jon was doing on the Wall, if he had made Ranger like their Uncle Benjen, or if he was something else? What else were there though? She wondered how tall he had gotten; his name day came and went a while ago, so he was nine and ten now. Her name day was coming too. Sansa felt so much older than sixteen years though.

“Lady Sansa,” Brienne mumbled into her ear, sitting down much closer than she’d ever sat beside Sansa before. Something wasn’t right. “We need to get you to your room for the night then leave first thing in the morn.” She nodded, standing up with the Lady Knight though she was stopped when she went to pull her hood off.

She glanced at Brienne who shook her head. Fear gripped at her heart at the gesture and then even more at the grim look on her face, her eyes were glossy looking as well like she was holding back tears. Sansa walked as normally as possible until they were locked away within her room. Pod was missing though.

“What is it, Brienne?” Sansa asked fearfully, pushing the hood off her head as she peered up at her.

“I’ve just gotten word from a passerby merchant,” Brienne started, looking extremely uncomfortable and like she was about to cry, her face starting to appear blotchy. “He had been passing by the Twins a week earlier where House Frey resides, he told me that…” she stopped talking, swallowing hard as a tear escaped her eye. “Your Uncle Edmure was wed to a Frey daughter, I was told that the Frey’s open fired on your brother’s bannermen during the feast, they disregarded guest right.”

Sansa gasped, her heart wrenched inside her chest as she took in the Lady Knight’s words. “Your brother, King Robb was murdered by House Frey and House Bolton, including your Lady mother.” Her mouth opened to scream but nothing came out, tears burst from her eyes and she fell back onto the bed as all the strength in her legs gave out. Each thump of her heart was followed by a painful ache as Brienne’s works sank in. Robb and mother…dead…

“What about Talisa and her baby?!” Sansa frantically asked, moving to stand but falling back down again, it was like she had no bones within her legs anymore. Brienne just shook her head, more tears silently dripping from her eyes. Sansa closed in on herself, curling up into a ball as she cried.

Robb promised, she thought, he promised they would all be back home and safe! He promised Arya would be found and they would all be together again. Misery and sorrow burrowed a hole into her chest and no amount of crying or squeezing her knees to her chest would alleviate it. It was like a huge chunk of her heart was ripped from her, and now she was trying to live, to breath with barely half a heart left.

Sansa shuddered through each breath, finding it harder and harder to breath. Father was gone, and now so was Robb and her mother. Arya was probably dead too. Never had Sansa ever felt so alone as she did then. At least when she was in King’s Landing, everyone was still alive. She felt isolated and alone, drifting through the air without anything to tether her to the ground.

For once, Sansa felt empty inside.

It was silent for a while as they both cried. Brienne calmed quicker though, coming over to brush her fingers through Sansa’s hair soothingly. It was a long time before Brienne told her more. They had to go into hiding, she had to keep her hair hidden because it was the biggest indicator of who she was. Sansa also found out that Roose Bolton was made Warden in the North. She didn’t understand any of it, nothing made sense.

What about Winterfell and her brothers? She had asked groggily. Brienne shook her head, stating they probably would not make it there before it was ransacked, and House Bolton took over. Where will we go? She asked next. Brienne pressed her lips into a firm line then shrugged uselessly.

Sansa felt lost again…

\--------------------------------------

For the next few moons they spent their time wandering from place to place. Her mother had left her with enough coin to get by for a long while, but eventually they would run out of money. Sansa’s only respite during the whole time was when she curled up into a ball and touched herself. Her thoughts of Jon kept her going, kept her moving as they headed further and further up North. It wasn’t only just sexual thoughts of him that carried her on though. Jon had always been observant, a quiet sureness to his every move and thought. Was it something that came naturally, or was it bore from life as a bastard where he was always in the shadows and just on the outskirts of everyone’s eyes?

Sansa didn’t know but she channeled Jon all the same and Robb too; even Arya, Bran and little Rickon. She needed all of her siblings to make it through this uncertain point in her life. Every single one had something she needed. Robb was brave, Jon was observant, Arya was willful, Bran was clever and little Rickon was untamable. Each trait she channeled would surely help her survive as they trailed aimlessly.

Brienne didn’t seem to have much of a destination in mind, but that they were heading as far North as possible.

Sansa spent her sixteenth name day outside in the cold, huddled next to Pod by the fire. They were in the somewhat mountainous region of the Barrowlands, near Torrhen’s Square. She wished she could go back to Winterfell, but the Bolton’s had taken over ownership of her childhood home. Sansa had dreams of taking it back. Dreams of slitting Roose Bolton’s throat like her mother’s had been or stabbing him in the gut like he had done to her brother.

As she thought about it more, the more she realized how unsurprising the betrayal of the Bolton’s was. House Bolton had always been more like a scavenger house, begging for more power and snatching it like a rat does scraps of food on the floor. They were without honor, so it wasn’t surprising that they would betray House Stark. Sansa wished they had noticed this sooner rather than later.

It was that night she brought up Jon.

“I still have another brother,” Sansa announced by the fire, tucking her dyed brown hair behind her ear to keep the wind from whipping it back into her face. Brienne was sharpening her sword across the fire and glanced up with a nod.

“Jon Snow, a man of the Wall now and can give us no help at all,” Brienne stated blandly like she had thought of it as well.

“Yes, but Stannis Baratheon is also at the Wall,” Sansa pressed on.

“Or, so we have heard. It may not be true, Lady Sansa, and I would not wish to go to a man who would willingly allow his kin be killed for a throne.” Her words were filled with harden metal and fire, and truly Sansa understood her anger, but they couldn’t keep this up much longer.

They’ll stay lost if they have no destination in mind.

“We only have so much coin left,” Podrick piped up, hiding his face in his cloak when Brienne bore her harden stare into him.

“You don’t have to work for him, Brienne, but we need a destination and we need a solid shelter for longer than a day or two,” Sansa continued insistently. She was tired of constantly moving, of the constant danger that loomed over their heads every time they stopped for the night.

It was only a matter of time before they were found by unfriendly people.

“And if he turns us away?” Brienne countered, arching a brow at them.

Sansa turned to look at Pod who also looked to her, perplexed.

“Then we will cross that bridge when we get there.” Though her words didn’t bring much comfort it did placate them for now.

That night she thought of nothing but Jon. She placed some of her cloak into her mouth to hide the noises she made as she squeezed the fabric of her dress tightly between her thighs. She rubbed her nub harshly against the rough material, working zings of pleasure through her nerves. She wondered if he remembered that day.

Wondered if he wanted to repeat it without interruption?...

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Sansa escapes King's Landing. I honestly only vaguely remember all of that portion of the show, so if it doesn't match up entirely, sorry for that. Hence canon-divergence, lol. I've always liked the fanfics where Sansa gets help escaping KL or managing it herself, so I just had to write one myself (though this is more like my second one). This was a tearful chapter, but the good news is that Jon will show up in the next chapter! Woot-Woot!! I hope y'all enjoyed this installment and let me know whatcha think!? ^_~


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! I am so happy no one was truly disappointed in the turn of events last chapter. Though it would have been interesting to pursue the relationship between Cersei and Sansa, that is not what this story is about. Maybe in another one I could? Either way, I am so glad and relieved. Now this chapter is what y'all have been waiting for! Castle Black!! I am excited for y'all to read this chapter!! It's the longest chapter thus far and the most interesting too!
> 
> Enjoy! ^_~

 

 

It was a long and treacherous ride as they moved through the Wolfswood. They had to stay as far from the Kingsroad as possible to keep Bolton patrols from noticing them. Lannister, Frey and Bolton were on the lookout for her. Being the eldest Stark child still alive (as far as they knew) left her able to contend the Bolton’s control of Winterfell. She was the blood of Winterfell and Key to the North in their eyes.

Sansa did not wish to be captured.

She endured the ride, using her thoughts and memories of her siblings to make it through, continuing to channel them within. Pod had done some investigating in the nearest town, found that the Bolton patrols only lasted so far down the Kingsroad, right before the mountains beyond the Wolfswood to be exact. It would be smooth sailing from there.

Or so they thought.

Sansa’s thighs hurt from the way they hit the sides of the horse as it galloped through the sparse trees. Her hands were feeling numb against the reins as she held on for dear life. She lost Pod and Brienne miles ago, telling her to make her escape to Castle Black as far as she could. If she kept a steady, fast pace she could make it to the main Wall stronghold by nightfall. Sansa pressed her steed harder and harder, knowing that it was hurting the horse, but not caring. She couldn’t afford too.

She’d make it up to the horse if they lived long enough for that.

Glancing behind her, she saw no one coming, but it was growing darker and darker, grey clouds blocking out the slowly setting sun’s rays. She crossed The Last River miles ago, so that had to mean she was close. The trees had fallen away to rolling hills and empty plains. Sansa looked over her shoulder again, but there was no one there. She feared for her companions, feared that either they were captured or killed.

Suddenly an arrow landed to the right of her. Sansa screamed as another came, almost hitting her horse as it galloped. Looking once more she took in five men on horses, two with bows in their hands. She quickly directed her horse to move left to avoid an arrow then right for another. Unfortunately, her horse’s sped was slowing down, exhaustion overcoming the poor thing.

Sansa leaned over to beg the horse in its ear to keep going, to not stop. Then an arrow struck the horse in the back of its hind leg, sending them tumbling down a hill. Sansa was thrown to the left, managing to barely avoid getting rolled over by her collapsed horse. She rolled down the hill, protecting her face as she tumbled to the bottom. Her horse cried in pain, trying to get up but falling back down each time.

She sent a prayer to the Seven for her horse and took off on foot, limping. She had no idea if she was close to Castle Black or not, she hadn’t a clue where she was in the North. Her heart was pounding heavily as she tried to out race horses.

She didn’t succeed.

Sansa stopped as an arrow landed in the ground, a few feet in front of her, halting her. She kept her back to the men as they approached slowly, surely their weapons were up, and at the ready. There was no way they knew who she was, her hair kept her identity well-hidden. Yet she couldn’t figure out why they were so intent on capturing her, unless they enjoyed the chase…unless they had more sinister plans for her, regardless of who she is.

“Turn around slowly,” a man called out. Sansa tried steadying her breath, willing her heart to slow down. She just needed to outwit them. Be clever like Bran, she thought.

Slowly, she turned around, glaring at the men as they sat on their horses. An arrow was notched in each bow, aimed right at her.

“Aren’t you a pretty one?” another man commented, leaning on his horse to see her better. “Bet your pussy is sweet?” Sansa wrinkled her nose in disgust, gritting her teeth together as she thought of every possible way she could get out of this without getting shot, or captured.

“What do you want?” she asked though it didn’t take a wild imagination to figure it out. Stall them for as long as you can, she thought.

“We just wanted to talk to you and your friends, there was no need to react violently or run,” the first man announced as he swung his leg around his horse, stepping down to the ground.

“Talk about what?” she continued, watching them all carefully. Where was Brienne and Pod?

“Just to ask who you are and where you are going; the normal questions we ask travelers when they come close to Winterfell,” he answered lightly as though he were telling the truth. Not even Cersei could lie to her without her knowing, she could sniff them out pretty damn well now.

He was lying.

“Alayne Stone, heading to Eastwatch,” Sansa supplied firmly, waiting for the next course of action. She hoped her friends would get here soon, otherwise she was in deep trouble.

“Well Miss Stone, do you have paperwork stating that?” he questioned with a smirk on his lips. Her stomach bubbled in fear, there was no such thing as having paper work to travel, they were just messing with her now.

Go along with them, keep on stalling, she reiterated inside her head as she shook her head ‘no’.

“Well then how do we know for sure that you are who you say you are? Or that you’re going where you say you are going?”

“I guess you will have to take my word for it.” The men all started to chuckle, each finding her response more amusing than the last.

“I don’t think so Miss Stone, I think you are going to have to come with us,” their unanimous leader said as he stepped up to her. Sansa immediately stepped back from him.

Sansa fingered the dagger Brienne placed on her hip, for ‘incase’ scenarios where she was alone and needed to protect herself. For each step she took back, he took one forward. It was a game of cat and mouse and Sansa did not want to be the mouse. Then out of nowhere an arrow struck one of the groups bowmen, right in the chest. The horses reared back then another came, hitting the other bowman.

Thinking quickly as their leader spun around, she pulled the dagger from its sheath. Upon turning back to her, scowl on his lips she sliced the sharpen edge out, catching him across his throat and splitting his neck open. Sansa was sprayed in the face with his blood. He dropped to his knees, grasping at his throat as blood flooded from the wound. She stepped back from him, watching as the life slowly went out in his eyes before he fell back to the ground.

She felt sick to her stomach as she gazed at his lifeless body. Her hand trembled with the dagger still firmly grasped in her fingers, blood slowly oozing off the sharp steel. She had killed him. It was self-defense, Sansa knew, but she had taken his life without a second thought. She knew he and his comrades would have done horrible things to her, she knew they probably would have killed her in the end, but that didn’t change the fact that she killed him. What scared her was how easy it had been. The blade was swift, and it hardly took any strength to slice his neck open as she had done.

Sansa dropped the dagger, quickly wiping at the blood on her face and neck, wishing to wash it away. She felt desperate at the way she tried wiping the blood with the sleeves of her cloak. She kept her eyes averted from the body before her, instead she turned around. The sound of horses came and soon she was surrounded. Glancing around her, Sansa took in the Stag sigil and knew it was Stannis Baratheon’s party. Relief came over her as she took them in; relief mixed in with anxiety and guilt over her actions.

She wondered if everyone felt this way over their first kill. She wondered if this would be the last time she had to kill someone to save herself? Sansa hoped she would never be put in this situation again. She was greeted and treated by the men where she learned that the King was residing in Castle Black. She kept her mouth shut about Brienne and Pod as they escorted her to Castle Black. Sansa was still weary of the men around her, keeping her cloak closed tightly as she rode a new horse.

The men asked her questions and Sansa responded her answers as though they were part of the five men of the Bolton patrols. They only knew her as the bastard Alayne Stone and that she and her companions were heading to Eastwatch before the patrols attacked them. She could see the speculation on their faces, knowing that they were only taking her words in face value, but otherwise didn’t fully believe her.

Sansa kept quiet for the rest of the journey to Castle Black…

\--------------------------------------

Her nerves bubbled inside her stomach as the gates slowly creaked open. The air was icy cold, frosting her breath as they waited to be brought within. Sansa kept her hood up to both fend off the cold and to obscure her appearance. Once the gates were open wide, they directed their horses within. She took in the courtyard of Castle Black then the faces of the men of the Night’s Watch. They were hairy and dirty and covered in dark cloaks.

Jon always said black was his color.

Sansa licked her lips as she peered around her, hoping to find Jon’s familiar long, Stark face watching them, but she couldn’t locate him in the crowd. One of the men of the scouting party helped her down from the horse, telling her that they would take her to King Stannis and the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. She nodded slowly, her nerves bubbling even more. She glanced back as the gates started to close, hoping that Brienne and Pod were okay and alive.

She followed silently up the steps. Still, she had not seen Jon’s dark grey eyes, nor his curly dark hair among the men in the courtyard. There was a mere second where Sansa feared that Jon might not be there because he was already dead. Dread burrowed into her chest as the air was stolen from her lungs at the thought.

What if he was dead? Where would that leave her then? Bran and Rickon were reported dead, killed by Theon Greyjoy of all people and Arya’s whereabouts were unknown, for all she knew her sister was dead as well; a lifeless, innocent body taken with the rest as a result of the war.

Her eyes watered briefly before she soothed her mind by pushing those thoughts away. Sansa could feel it in her heart that Jon wasn’t dead, he couldn’t be. For all she knew he could be a Ranger like their Uncle and out beyond the wall. It helped to keep her eyes dry as her guide knocked on a door before it opened to reveal an older man with a receding hairline and grey beard. He had a stern look about him as he first looked at her guide then looked over to her.

“What is it?” he asked, peering harder at her as her hood shrouded her appearance.

“We were scouting for more wildlings when we came upon Bolton patrols cornering this young woman,” her guide answered quickly, waving a hand to indicate her. Sansa blew out some air before pushing back her hood to reveal her face to the stern man.

He frowned deeply at her then turned his hard eyes back to her guide. “This is not an Inn, why did you not lead her to Mole’s Town?”

Her guide glanced back at her then said, “I don’t trust that what she is saying is true.”

“Whomever it is, let them in, Davos.” The stern man eyed over her guide then waved her in, stepping back to allow Sansa to step in from the cold.

The air in the room was far warmer than outside, slowly seeping into her cloak and clothes and hopefully it would seep into her skin and bones as well. The door behind her shut tightly as she turned to take in King Stannis Baratheon, seated behind a desk as he eyed her over then she heard a sharp intake of breath, drawing her attention beyond Stannis’ seated position to notice another figure in the room.

Sansa gasped just as sharply as the air was sucked out of her lungs. Her eyes widen as she took in Jon Snow, her bastard half-brother. He stood somewhat taller than before, shoulders broader and his chin was covered in a short beard encircling his lips and up his jawline. His hair was the same as she remembered, dark and curly and wild, and his eyes were much the same as well though widen as he took her in. Sansa knew immediately that Jon recognized her, his mouth dropped open as though he were to speak, but Stannis beat him to it.

“State your name and business, my lady,” Stannis said stiffly, his back perfectly straight in his seat as he stared directly into her face.

What was it that Cersei had said to her during the Battle of the Blackwater? Ah yes, that she had a better chance of charming Stannis’ horse before she could the man and Sansa could see why. Everything about him spoke of duty and strength. His eyes did not rove over her like so many men she had encountered including those of the scouting group that saved her, his eyes remained on her face and only her face. It was surprisingly refreshing.

“Alayne Stone is my name, your grace and I was heading to Eastwatch by the Sea with my two companions when we were attacked and chased by the Bolton patrol,” Sansa spoke softly, innocently with just an edge of weariness to her tone. If nothing else, King’s Landing had made her a better actress in her own right.

“Alayne Stone, a bastard’s name?”

“Yes, your grace.” Jon’s face twitched then a frown came to his lips before his face became carefully blank just as Stannis turned to direct his penetrating stare on him.

“You recognized her,” he stated. Jon’s mouth unhinged as he glanced between them, clearly unsure how to proceed. Sansa quickly spoke before Jon could ruin her ruse.

“We knew each other back in Winterfell, my mother worked as a seamstress for Lady Stark.” Stannis still stared at Jon, brow arched as he waited for Jon to concur.

It only took a moment for him to nod, “Aye, she speaks the truth. I have not seen her since I left Winterfell to take the Black.”

“You survived the sack of Winterfell?” Davos asked next, he too, was glancing between the two of them. Sansa’s heart was beating a heavy and fast rhythm inside her chest, but otherwise she appeared calm and collected though tired, and she was so very tired.

“I was not present during the time of the sacking. My mother had fallen gravely ill and I had ventured to seek my wayward father…she died in the sacking and I have yet to find him.” Sansa drew her eyes downward as though she were sad then closed her eyes briefly to portray that she was holding back tears though her eyes remained dry.

Her thoughts went to her mother and father though, and that helped produce tears in her eyes to make her story seem real. A tear strayed down her cheek, she quickly wiped it away.

“And your two companions?” Davos continued, his hands carefully folded behind his back though he seemed less stern than before, possibly moved by her tears.

As they had neared Winterfell and heard of the Bolton patrols, Brienne had thought they should come up with cover stories for each other in the case that they were separated. Sansa had thought stating whom she was first and foremost would be best, but her Lady Knight disagreed. Brienne thought it best that she not reveal who she was at first, telling her after eyeing Pod over as though she wasn’t sure he would wish to hear what she had to say, she told her that she was a woman flowered and grown and ripe for marriage.

If it came down to it, Stannis might wish to wed her to one of his loyal men considering she was the key to the North and Winterfell. The thought of wedding some unknown man made Sansa sick to her stomach and Brienne seemed to agree with her. It was best to keep everyone under a ruse for the time being until she was secure.

Sansa had asked her what she would do if they were separated? Brienne told her not to worry about them and that they would keep watch on Castle Black if she made it there without them. Brienne even stated along the lines of her and Pod coming of their own accord though she much rather suffer in the wild than go to Stannis Baratheon for anything. Sansa heard the story of what happened to Renly Baratheon and she heard of the Red Woman that Stannis kept around him though she did not see the woman in the room now.

“I fear they were killed as I got away,” Sansa mumbled softly though this time she did not have to fake her sorrow or conjure up memories of her parents to incite sorrow. She hoped and prayed that Brienne and Podrick were okay and that they would show up by morning the next day. When she glanced up, she noticed the furrow of Jon’s brows full of concern as he watched her. She hoped there would be a time for them to speak.

“I will have Melisandre speak to her in the morning, what do you say, Lord Commander?” Stannis said, turning to gauge Jon’s face. Sansa’s mouth opened in shock. Did she hear him right? Did he really call Jon, Lord Commander?

“Aye, she may stay the night.” Jon averted his eyes to the floor then raised them to meet hers before he was stepping over to her. “I will show her to her chambers for the night.”

Sansa quickly bid Stannis and Davos goodnight then followed Jon as he left his chambers. Lord Commander Jon Snow. It was so hard for her mind to wrap around the fact that he had risen through the ranks so quickly. Here, she and Robb thought he’d at least make Ranger, instead Jon had gone further beyond, succeeding the previous Lord Commander. Father would be so proud, Sansa thought.

Once they were enclosed in her chambers for the night, Jon turned to her, mouth open to speak before she flung herself at him. He was swift though, easily catching her in his arms and even lifting her off her feet as she closed her arms tightly around his neck. “I’ve missed you so much, Jon,” Sansa mumbled into his hair as she nuzzled into the side of his head.

“Gods Sansa, I hardly believed it was you at first then I saw your eyes, those crystal blue, Tully eyes and I knew it was you,” Jon muttered into her shoulder as he cradled her to his body. Tears welled up in her eyes, it felt so good to be here in his arms, to feel him physically there and not a phantom reminder.

Sansa pulled back as Jon set her back on her feet and before she could stop herself she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his in a kiss. Jon hissed in shock, but her arms wrapped around his neck kept him pinned to her. His lips were chapped and dried by the cold air so far North, but they felt amazing as they pressed against hers. Jon’s hands clenched tightly around her cloak as she slanted her mouth and moved her lips.

She noticed his reluctance, his resistance to return her kiss. A sharp jolt rippled through her body as she realized he wasn’t participating in the kiss. Sansa pulled back some, only enough to keep them within breathing range as her nose lightly touched the tip of his. “Sansa, what was that?” Jon asked in shock and confusion.

All this time she dreamed about being in his arms again, dreamed of kissing him, dreamed of being touched and loved by him, and yet she had not once thought that Jon might not feel the same. That kiss they shared had been so long ago now, long enough to be forgotten it seemed by not only herself. Sansa took a shuddering breath, gazing into Jon’s eyes.

“I missed you,” Sansa said instead of confessing her feelings. Jon sighed deeply, rubbing his nose against hers sweetly then he pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“I missed you too,” he returned, slowly loosening his grip on her cloak before stepping back from her entirely, forcing her to release her hold on him.

There was a moment of silence between them as the air become thick and littered with the awkwardness that roused from her kiss. Sansa used that time to take in her chambers for the night, it wasn’t much, a simple straw bed with a small dresser and candles here and there; it was far better than sleeping on the cold, hard ground though.

“Why did you lie to Stannis?” Jon finally asked, disregarding the man’s king status. He clearly did not care who or what that man represented, and she couldn’t really blame him either. The Night’s Watch is meant to be neutral in anything that happened in Westeros, they were not meant to get involved and yet here Stannis Baratheon was, at Castle Black and making himself at home it seemed.

“I am six and ten now, Jon, a maiden flowered and ripe for marriage. If he knew who I really was, how soon before he proposed a betrothal?” Jon pursed his lips as she moved away from him to inspect her chambers further. “He would expect Sansa Stark to do her duty if she wished for Winterfell back, he’d expect her to wed any man he sought to fit as she is the key to the North.” Sansa turned back around to bore her gaze upon him. “I was stuck in an abusive betrothal with Joffrey, I wish not to be stuck in yet another with a man thrice my age. It made more sense to continue my ruse here in Castle Black.”

“I would never allow him to do that, Sansa. I would protect you,” Jon insisted, stepping forward as she gave him a shake of her head and a sad smile.

“You would try, wouldn’t you? But you are Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch and you have taken a vow to remain neutral of anything beyond guarding the Wall. You cannot protect me, Jon.” The truth of her words seemed to burn both of them. “It’s safer this way,” she added softly.

“Where will you go?” Jon asked quietly. He looked vaguely sick as he awaited her answer. And her answer? Sansa didn’t know.

Brienne was still working out a secondary plan in case Castle Black was a bust and it seemed to be that way now. Sansa didn’t know where she would go from here. In her dreams she could gather bannermen of the North that were loyal to her father and take back Winterfell, but that was only a dream and the only way it could succeed is if she revealed herself to Stannis and accepted whomever to wed. Pod had brought up actually going to Eastwatch, but then what? Sansa was so tired of wandering and hiding, so tired of the constant moving and fear of every darken corner. She was so very tired.

With a deep sigh and slumped shoulders, she replied, “I don’t know honestly.”

That seemed to stall anymore words between them on that subject. Jon told her he would go down and get her some food, but to remain in her chambers for the time being and that he would post only his most trusted men near her hall; just in case. Sansa appreciated his concern and once he left she allowed herself to drop onto the straw bed, flinching at the feel of it at first before remembering that it was many times better than dirt.

Jon came up a few minutes later, juggling a bowl of stew and a flagon of ale. Sansa enjoyed the stew for what it was, and somehow managed to choke down the ale. Her brother joked about how bad the ale was, wondering why in all the thousand of years that the Night’s Watch existed, why hadn’t they figured out how to make a better ale. They laughed and joked and reminisced about the old days in Winterfell. He even comforted her as she told him about the Bolton patrol and the man she had killed to save herself.

As much as she feared what would happen to her, that she had only defended herself, Sansa still found tears to cry over the man she had killed. Jon held her tightly, stroking her back and whispering sweet words into her ear about how strong she was, and how proud he was that she saved herself in that moment. He even told her of his first kills, talking a little about his time with the wildlings and killing a man he respected greatly to survive.

“We all have to do things we wish not to, if it means we can survive another day,” Jon told her grimly, pressing a soft and reassuring kiss at her temple. His words rang true in far more ways than Sansa ever realized as her thoughts of King’s Landing came to her mind.

Sansa finished up her soup, leaning her head upon Jon’s shoulder as he talked about his first days in the Watch.

“There was a moment, when I heard about Robb’s declaring war on Joffrey and King’s Landing, that I almost deserted the Watch to join him,” Jon said softly. Sansa had slipped her hand into his as they talked and now he was gently stroking his fingers upon her hand, tracing invisible lines with his roughened fingertips. It was soothing, much like his voice in her ear. “I wanted to help so badly, after hearing what happened to father and fearing what would happen to you and Arya. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened had I continued on.”

“You would have gotten yourself killed, and don’t think otherwise, Jon Snow. There was nothing more you could do, Robb made his decisions as had father and mother. We need to live in the now and not in the past.” Sansa smiled through the sadness when she felt Jon lean his head against hers on his shoulder.

“When did you become so wise?” he asked jokingly, she sighed though.

“We all had to grow up faster than we were ready for, I suppose.”

“Aye, and on that note, I should let you rest.” Jon got up from the bed though Sansa refused to let go of his hand. He glanced between their hands and her face, eyebrow arched in confusion.

“Will you lay with me? At least until I fall asleep?” Sansa asked desperately. She didn’t want him to leave just yet, she didn’t want to be alone so soon.

Jon pursed his lips, weighing his options heavily in his mind it seemed. Sansa squeezed his hand lightly, mumbling out, “Please, Jon.”

“Okay, but only until you fall asleep.” Sansa nodded, smiling victoriously.

Jon walked to the dresser, pulling out another blanket while she pulled off her shoes and set her cloak aside. There wasn’t a fireplace in these chambers and it was plenty cold. As Sansa got settled on the bed, Jon removed his boots, covering her up in the other blanket then with her insistence, he curled up behind her. She relished the feeling of his body pressed against her back and his arms wrapped around her to keep her warm.

Sleep easily took her in and with that came her dreams.

He was above her, rocking into her as she writhed in pleasure beneath him. Her hands clinging to his broad and strong shoulders. Sansa whined and moaned, following his movement above her. She knew he was fucking her, could feel his cock sliding in and out of her rapidly. He was mumbling her name, mumbling words underneath his breath. She adjusted her legs, wrapping them firmly around his hips to encourage tighter thrusting.

More, Sansa mouthed, harder.

She wanted him to pound into her, own her being, make her his forever. We belong together, we always have, she thought desperately, clawing her nails down his back. Still, Jon kept a steady, soft rate. Sansa wanted it harder though, so much harder. She wanted him to punish her for her wicked thoughts of him, show her the harshness that came with fucking.

Sansa wanted Jon to claim her, hard and fast.

She begged him so prettily, cooing sweet words into his ear to try and get him to move faster, but he resisted, only leaning further down to rub his hot and sweaty body against hers. It wasn’t what she wanted, but it would do for now.

Tossing and turning, she dug her heels into his bottom cheeks, urging him to thrust harder.

“Sansa,” he groaned, collapsing on top of her, but still thrusting his cock into her cunt. “Sansa,” he repeated.

“Sansa, stop.”

She blinked. Her eyes slowly pulling open to see a filter of light coming through into the room. She shifted, slowly coming to focus and heard another groan behind her then a hand clamping tightly to her hip. “Stop moving,” Jon groaned behind her.

Sansa realized slowly that Jon had fallen asleep with her and that his erected cock was pressed tightly against her bottom. She felt completely and utterly wet between her thighs from her dream, and obviously she was rutting back against him while in slumber.

Jon sighed deeply, pushing back from her to stand. Sansa flipped onto her back, watching as he shifted the front of his pants around then flushing greatly when he noticed her watching him do so. It had felt quite large against her bottom, she wondered how big his cock was and how nice it would feel stroking her insides.

“I should-I need to go now, I shouldn’t have fallen asleep,” Jon stated clumsily, brushing back his unruly curls with his eyes averted from her. She wished to tell him to stay, maybe even convince him to continue where they left off, but she knew that was too soon for him, so she smiled softly instead.

“I will see you later then?” Sansa poised the question innocently, fluttering her eyelashes sweetly, and enjoying the deepening of his flush at her attention.

“Aye, I will see you down in the hall to break our fast.” Then he was abruptly leaving, and with it his warmth that kept her from freezing through the night…

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much happened here. Sansa killed a man, something that will come back to bother her once more. Stannis will be sending Mel on Sansa. Sansa kissed Jon!!! Then had a wet dream about him with him in bed, hehehehe. So much, and so much more to come! I have stated that I do have a general plotline to this story, but as per usual, as I write, sometimes things change or better ideas come. So...
> 
> Next chapter will have two sections of Jon's POV, so y'all can see what he thinks and such, though that isn't truly the biggest change to the storyline. I have another idea that I am leaning heavily towards, but that means possibly extending the story (I know y'all aren't going to be bothered by that, lol), so it might take a little longer than a week to figure out the logistics of what I want to do with this story. Regardless, I hope y'all enjoyed this installment! It was after I wrote this section of the story that I decided to slice it into chapters, knowing it was going to get longer for a oneshot and take longer to complete as well. Let me know whatcha think!?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter coming at ya! This was a fun chapter to write and where the most difference for my plot change starts. The main difference is the addition of Jon's POV in the story. The way I am going to go about it is how I use to write for my other stories on ff.net, which was having multiple POV's in one chapter, usually two-three. It adds more depth to the story from different personalities, and strengthens the storyline too. Right now, it's only Jon and Sansa, but I might add more while I go along. So, this story won't end at 6 chapters, it might go much further than that though I am not sure as of yet. I am working a little on the fly with the plot and I both love and hate doing that. Some of my favorite moments happen that way, but if I don't have something to center my focus on I could write myself into a wall too. I can't make any promises on when the 5th chapter will be posted, but I'm hoping before the 21st of this month (which is my 29th birthday and I will be away from home then).
> 
> Anywho, enjoy! ^_~

 

 

Jon tried to ignore the looks among the men around him; tried. Some made it harder than others though. It was much too late in the morning, his absences already noted, and knowledge of his last location discussed. He knew what it looked like regardless that Sansa was his sister in disguise; he knew exactly what it looked like from the outside and it was confirmed to him by the worse possible person at Castle Black.

“Lord Snow,” greeted Ser Alliser Thorne, grinning widely at his descent into the yard. He tried to ignore him as well, but it seemed the master-at-arms would not be deterred. “Late morning? I see you came from a different direction than the Lord Commander’s chambers.”

“I was checking up on our female guest,” Jon answered gruffly, feeling a tick in his brow when Thorne trailed behind him.

“Checking up? As I hear it, you never came back to your chambers last night.” The insinuation in his tone rubbed Jon the wrong way like harshly rubbing a burn; he was becoming irritable and raw.

“Was there a point, Ser Alliser?” Jon spat, whipping around abruptly to glare at the older man.

“A point? Why yes, there was one. You are the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, the leader we chose,” he said the last word like it was a disgusting piece of meat that he was ready to spit out on the ground and stomp beneath his boot. “How good of a leader are you if you’re fucking the first whore that comes waltzing into here.”

It took every last bit of raw control to keep from lashing out at Thorne, to keep from grabbing him by the throat and slamming him into the nearest wall. His teeth grinded together with his eyes narrowed upon the older man, and both of his hands were balled into tightly winded fists while an invisible force kept Jon from losing control. Thorne smirked, noting Jon’s reaction with glee.

“I hear this whore is someone you’ve known back at Winterfell,” he continued on as if Jon wasn’t showing him that he needed to stop while he was ahead. He should have known some of his brothers would snoop around his door, curious about their female guest.

Jon opened his mouth to tear Thorne into pieces when Edd came down to the yard with Sansa or as it is Alayne on his arm. She was breathtaking, just like he had thought last night when he first laid eyes on his half-sister after so many years apart. Her dark hair only heightened the freckles and paleness of her skin and made her Tully blue eyes stand out even more. He missed her red hair though. In his mind’s eye, he could still see the vibrate color as it had been years ago.

Sansa smiled briefly at him, fluttering her lashes and averting her gaze to her feet as she was escorted to the dining hall. When Jon glanced back, the master-at-arms was smirking with a knowing gleam in his eyes. Without saying another word, Jon left him, trailing after Edd and Sansa to break their fast.

Stannis was eyeing him like the rest, with a disapproving frown on his lips. It didn’t take much for Jon to know that the wannabe King thought precisely what everyone else here was thinking; that he had broken his vows last night with Alayne Stone. It was irking and upsetting how little faith his men seemed to have in him; how easily they thought so little of him that he’d break his vows so openly. Jon was sure that many would attribute it to him gaining such a commanding position and, of course, because of how undoubtedly beautiful Sansa truly was.

She was seated by Edd and few others though a glance at Jon’s glaring eyes kept them from interacting with her beyond curious glances. Jon continued to ignore the surveillance and whispers as he seated himself at the head table.

Stannis took a sip of ale with his food, keeping his thoughts and words to himself until an opportunity came for him to tell Jon how he really felt about this. Davos kept his gaze on his food, giving a short nod of acknowledgement from his King’s side.

Eating was a chore, the food had no taste to Jon, and his eyes kept diverting down to the table Sansa sat at, talking with Edd. His mind went back to last night as he tried to force down his breakfast.

Sansa had kissed him.

He had been so shocked by her abruptness and audacity. First, she was hugging him tightly then she was pressing her soft lips against his, and it wasn’t a chaste kiss between siblings either. Jon had tried not to overthink on it, pushing it aside as Sansa just missing him and wanting solid contact, and that she did not mean to kiss him like a lover. Yet the look in her eyes as they stared so deeply into his, and the profound sadness that appeared when he hadn’t responded ate away at his heart.

She had meant something more with that kiss; Jon was sure of it.

Then that morning, waking up to having fallen asleep beside his sister and feeling her rutting her plump bottom against his morning erection had seemed to wake more than his conscious mind. Feelings he had long buried away were trying to resurface; feelings he thought had been kept under lock and key. Jon was embarrassed and sick with himself over the fact that he had knowingly thrust his cock between her cheeks, wishing to find some pleasure while Sansa was clearly asleep.

He was no better than the rapers that become his brothers on the Watch. Taking advantage of her while she was sleeping, Jon wished he had time to dunk his head into some ice-cold water after he left. In her sleeping state, she rutted back against him. Jon couldn’t stop from moaning her name twice before finding the will to halt her movements. She didn’t know what she was doing, he thought, yet in the back of his mind, he wondered how true that thought was.

It didn’t get past Jon that Sansa seemed to treat him less like a sibling than ever before. Back in their childhood, it had been because of his status, her mother, and one incident that truly enforced her distance from him. Jon reached over to swallow a hard gulp of ale, relishing the burn down his throat as a memory came back to him.

They were playing ‘Knights and Princesses’, Sansa’s favorite game. Robb had been initially playing with them but got called away during the game, so Jon was named her DragonKnight to her Queen Naerys. It was the first time she had ever appointed him as such; usually, he played the dark knight trying to steal her away from Robb.

Jon had felt honored and excited though he was a boy of five and ten, much too old to be playing such games, but he couldn’t help indulging in Sansa when she was finally giving him her full attention. The attention he so sorely craved. He vanquished invisible monsters and knights, acting as the regaled and famous knight before ultimately saving Sansa in the end. He even took her hand to place a kiss on it much like a knight would his lady love.

It was the look in her eyes, glazed over and half-lidded as she gazed up at him that captivated his mind. Her cheeks were lightly flushed, highlighting her freckles, and her long lashes lining her beautiful blue eyes. Jon found it hard to breathe as he stared at her. He was moving closer to Sansa without realizing it. Her fingers curling into his into his jerkin while her teeth closed over her plump bottom lip drew his attention from her eyes to her lips.

He wondered how they would taste against his.

She seemed nervous then, but not once did she tell him ‘no’ or push him away. Her curled fingers in his jerkin seemed to keep him from pulling away from her. Jon found himself coming closer and closer then she was abruptly leaning up and kissing his cheek though there was a light touch of her lips on the edge of his, just enough to cause a ripple across his mind and through his nerves.

Sansa pulled back, embarrassment coloring her cheeks prettily. Jon moved swiftly, his hand slipping beneath her long hair to clutch at the nape of her neck, tugging her back to him. She never resisted, never struggled; instead, Sansa puckered her lips knowingly.

Jon felt like he could once again breathe properly once her lips met his in a soft, sweet kiss. His first kiss. It was amazing and wonderful. Her lips were so soft against his, puckering up and pressing. He felt dizzy from the tantalizing touch; a sweet kiss from his sweet yet distance half-sister. He kneaded his fingers at the back of her neck, soothing her as they kissed then Jon brushed the tip of his tongue against her lips.

He startled her; he realized too late as he dipped his tongue past her gasping lips to give a sweet brush against her own. Jon felt like his nerves were on fire though they were quickly doused in icy fear when he heard Theon shouting at them. Jon figured he must have come to fetch him for something, and they were caught in the act.

When Theon announced he was going to tell Lord Stark about the kiss, the gleam of excitement over Jon getting into trouble was in his eyes before he left. Jon hated to leave so abruptly, but he couldn’t let the Greyjoy get to their father first.

And he didn’t.

Jon got to Theon first, knocking him into the ground and almost giving him a black eye before violently persuading him to keep his mouth shut. Theon never looked at Jon the same way again, and Sansa put an even more painful distance between them after the incident.

It was for the best though, he thought later on. His feelings were disgusting and deplorable, to feel such a way for his half-sister like that. Jon vowed to bury his feelings away, to never let them see the light of day again and forget about it as plainly as Sansa had.

Yet that was harder to do when he learned of the betrothal between Sansa and Joffrey Baratheon. The thought of that blonde-haired weasel getting to kiss Sansa, touch her, and eventually marry her ate away at him as he waited to depart from Winterfell to the Wall. Jon was accustomed to feeling like the world was against him, but it was at that moment when Arya revealed to him about the agreed betrothal that he dreadfully felt like a shadow on the walls of Winterfell.

It was then that he truly pushed aside any feelings toward his distance half-sister, forcing the incident under lock and key within his mind, and trying at every chance he got to not ever think about her. It was Arya that was always on his mind; where was she, how was she doing, was she even alive?

Sansa had rarely made an appearance in his thoughts except for brief moments that were far and few between. Now here she was, alive and well. Jon glanced up from his half-eaten food to see his sister nibbling on some bread that was probably harder than a rock and smiling at Edd beside her.

As though feeling his eyes on her, Sansa lifted her gaze up to connect with his. A strange sizzle ran through him making his heart rate jump and warmth to flood his abdomen. Her cheeks flushed prettily, just like he remembered with a soft smile on her lips before she turned her attention back to her harden slice of bread. She was so hard to read now, Jon had noticed last night in front of Stannis and Davos, but there was no mistaking the way she was acting now.

No mistaken that kiss last night either.

Jon was not prepared for this kind of situation; not at all…

\--------------------------------------

Stannis bided his time until Jon had gotten back to his solar to speak to him about his supposed tryst with Alayne Stone. Jon hadn’t sat down for more than a few minutes before the proclaimed King knocked on his door and entered his chambers. Instantly his shoulders tensed up as he awaited what would be said to him. Meanwhile, Sansa was escorted back to her chambers where she remained for the time being as Jon tried to figure out what to do with her.

She was right in that he couldn’t do anything for her, and with the revelation that she might be forced into a marriage if she reveals herself to Stannis only made things harder. Stannis wished to take the Boltons out of Winterfell, but he wanted Jon to be apart of that even though he was Lord Commander. For the longest time he hadn’t known Sansa was even alive anymore, hearing that she had disappeared at the capital several moons ago, and now, here she was.

So how was he to take her claim even though she didn’t seem to want it for fear of another forced betrothal?

“Lord Commander Snow,” Stannis greeted in his gruff way, seating himself in front of Jon’s desk as he greeted, “Your grace.”

The older man settled comfortably across from him, peering at him with a knowing smirk. “You know, it is easy to forget,” he commented after a moment of playing a staring game with Jon.

“Forget what?” Jon answered the bait, knowing what would be said before the words left Stannis’ mouth.

“It is easy to forget you are still a man when at the Wall. A man with needs that can’t be easily taken cared of when one is vowed to remain celibate.” Jon frowned deeply, clenching his burned hand tightly to contain his aggravation. At least he wasn’t calling Sansa a whore like Thorne had done.

“I assure you, your grace, that I continue to remain celibate. Nothing happened with S-Alayne last night, I merely comforted her and fell asleep with her by accident,” Jon stated sternly, trying not to allow his teeth to grind when Stannis looked less than convinced.

“You needn’t explain yourself, Lord Commander. I understand; she’s a reminder of a home you once had, a home I wish to liberate from the Boltons,” Stannis stated matter-of-factly, and Jon knew where he was going when he continued. “You rejected my offer once, but I will state it again. Kneel before me, Jon Snow, and not only will I name you Jon Stark, but I will allow you to wed your lover, Alayne Stone. You both may forget your bastard statuses and leave those identities behind.”

Jon pursed his lips together, trying to ignore the fact that his heart was thumping erratically inside his chest. He kept a straight face though, even with the chaos that was going on inside his mind at Stannis’ proposition. His previous thoughts during breakfast in the Hall came back with a vengeance. The kiss he bestowed upon Sansa back at Winterfell, and the kiss she planted on him last night came to the forefront of his mind.

If he agreed, would Sansa? Her voice echoing that she didn’t know where to go after here bothered him greatly. He did not want to let her go back out into the world now that she was here. Jon just wanted to keep her safe, but he couldn’t possibly do that as Lord Commander. His ties to the Watch kept him from truly helping, but if he accepted Stannis’ offer then he could protect her. Yet they were siblings, even if they were the only ones to know this.

“You don’t have to answer right now, just keep it in mind for the coming days.” Jon frowned upon hearing that.

“What do you mean, your grace?”

“I am preparing to launch a campaign with the remaining Lords in the North, the many who oppose the rule of the Lannister’s in the South and the Boltons as wardens of the North. That campaign would succeed if I had the last warden of the North’s son by my side. You are the last of Eddard Stark’s bloodline; the last reminder of the old North before everything went to shit.” Jon flinched at the curse, finding it rather curious that Stannis would speak so bluntly and harshly.

He’s desperate, Jon thought, seeing the strain in his eyes and the tenseness of his mouth. No one would ever accept Stannis Baratheon as King unless someone prominent supported him like say, the last warden in the North’s bastard son.

Jon knew at this point; the lords of the North would overlook his bastard status and see hope for the old North that had been when his father ruled as warden. Stannis was right in stating that he had Eddard Stark’s bloodline in him, but he was wrong about him being the last of it. Guilt ate away at his conscience as he thought about Sansa sitting in her chambers as he was offered Winterfell on a platter once more.

“As I stated, think on it, Lord Commander before deciding. The people of the North need you more than these men, your brothers at the Wall do. Alayne Stone will need you too.” Stannis then stood slowly, accepting the nod Jon gave him before leaving him to brood over the King’s words.

It was utter chaos inside his head. Jon braced his forehead against his hand with his elbow planted on the desk as the many thoughts rushed around in his mind. He knew he couldn’t take Winterfell from Sansa, even if she were hiding in disguise. ‘Winterfell belongs to my sister, Sansa’, Jon remembers stating the last time Stannis had offered his childhood home to him. Why was now so much harder?

Because Sansa was here. Because she couldn’t be herself without risking her freedom. Because she kissed him and meant it as a lover instead of a sibling.

Jon groaned into the emptiness of his solar, rubbing harshly at his forehead as he tried to figure out the best solution to his problem.

If he agreed, then Sansa would be safe, and she’d be his wife, a dream he thought was quite literally impossible. If he repeated his stance that Winterfell belonged to Sansa, then he could remain at the Wall, but she would leave and be in the wind again; lost to him once more. If she revealed her true identity, then Stannis would demand she marry one of his high lords to establish a united front between Winterfell and his campaign in the South.

Each if had terrible outcomes, but only one could keep Sansa safe from everyone in the end, but she could never be Sansa Stark again.

Which one was better, Jon thought, Sansa being his wife, Sansa disappearing again, and possibly forever, or Sansa wedded to a man perhaps thrice her age, and be miserable again.

He knew which one he liked best, and that scared him more than the outcomes of the others did…

\--------------------------------------

Sansa liked Edd. He was sweet yet awkward and quiet with a crooked smile that made her feel safe as opposed to the curious and dirty smiles of the other men at Castle Black. She wished she could have sat with Jon though, wished she could have talked to him more. He looked rather grim when he came in not far behind her and Edd in the Hall.

It took some coaxing, but Sansa got the gist of what was being said about Jon and her from Edd. She got even more when she came across a rather surly older man with a pinched face who called her, ‘Lord Snow’s whore’ in passing. Sansa kept a frown from her face, merely smiling sweetly at him instead of answering his bait.

Edd seemed ready to defend her, but she tugged on his arm, telling him she was cold and wished to be escorted back to her chambers. He muttered some unsavory words about the other man, Thorne, then Edd left her in the safety of her room, stating he would come for her when mid-day meals were cooked.

Sansa curled up on the bed, hoping that would keep her warm as she thought about what she would do now. She had no idea where Brienne and Pod were, and the idea of leaving Castle Black into the unknown scared her far more than she realized. It was easy to tell Jon that she would go to Eastwatch, but to actually go there alone was nerve-wracking.

She had no disillusions about herself, or the situation she could end up in. She was young, pretty if not beautiful, and all alone for all intents and purposes. How long until some unwelcomed men came upon her like the Bolton men the other day? How long until she was pushed into working at a whore house as a whore? The thoughts made her sick to her stomach, but what could she do otherwise?

It was a man’s world out there, and without a trusted man by her side, Sansa could never make it in the world. She’d be used and abused like all the rest.

Wiping away tears, she jumped at the sound of knocking on her door. Swallowing away any more of her fears for a later day, Sansa got up from her bed. She answered the door to find another woman on the other side. She had long dark red hair, wearing an equally dark red robe and dress with a plunging neckline that reminded her of Margaery Tyrell. Her eyes were even dark red as she peered at Sansa as though she were peering into her soul.

“Yes, may I help you?” Sansa finally asked, remembering her manners. The woman gave her a somewhat cryptic smile.

“I am Melisandre, may I enter?” her accent was something Sansa had never heard before as she spoke. Without any reason not to allow her in, she nodded and stepped aside to allow the other woman entrance into her small and cold chambers.

Her gown and robe dragged behind her, whispering softly on the stone flooring as she walked into the small bedchamber. Sansa lightly closed the door after her, remembering Stannis mentioning that he would have Melisandre speak with her in the morning. She must be the red woman, Sansa thought, the one responsible for Renly Baratheon’s death.

Swallowing thickly, she turned to see the red-eyed woman observing her, almost curiously. Sansa kept her face neutral, hoping the other woman couldn’t notice how quickly her pulse moved in her neck. “I am to assume King Stannis sent you here,” Sansa commented lightly, brushing down the skirts of her wool dress before clasping her hands together to keep them from fidgeting.

Normally she could withstand any type of stare, but Melisandre’s stare was heavier, harder, and piercing. All-seeing eyes, Sansa realized as a sense of dread came over her.

“Yes, he wishes for me to speak with you,” Melisandre said in her strange accent, lips stretching across her face in a thin, knowing smile. He means to investigate me, Sansa concluded accurately.

“Well, would you like a seat, my lady?” Sansa proceeded, waving a hand to the two seats in the corner with a small side table between them. She inclined her head then turned to seat herself as Sansa followed slowly behind.

“You are well-mannered for a bastard,” Melisandre mused pointedly.

Without missing a beat, Sansa shrugged a shoulder as she seated herself. “I was raised in Winterfell, and I like being polite and well-mannered. You catch more flies with honey than vinegar.”

“I see,” she replied quietly, watching Sansa with amusement on her face. “So, tell me, Alayne. Why is it a ‘Stone’ is living in Winterfell? Correct me if I’m wrong, but should not your sir name be ‘Snow’ in the North?”

Sansa had a feeling a question like this would pop up. Brienne had even quizzed her on the reasoning behind her using the bastard name ‘Stone’ instead of ‘Snow’. Her first thought was that she didn’t want Jon to feel insulted as if she was cruelly poking fun at him over his status, but her second thought and the one she voiced to Brienne was that it would be easier to state she was born from the mountains of the Vale than Winterfell. Sansa could easily make things up, stating that her mother was sent to Winterfell by Catelyn Stark’s sister, Lysa as a gift through her seamstress work and that Alayne had come with her mother.

It would also keep from Jon having to concur with her lies about the Vale and prevent him from outing her lying as well. Sansa, Brienne, and Podrick had quizzed and questioned each other endlessly during their trek North, so they could all be prepared to state their lies as truthfully as possible.

“I was born in the Vale with my mother, hence my name being ‘Stone’. We moved to Winterfell because of a better opportunity for my mother when I was a girl of seven. Lady Lysa Arryn had my mother moved to create dresses for Lady Catelyn Stark and her daughters, Sansa and Arya.” Melisandre nodded. She noted that the woman hardly blinked, her red eyes unmoving from Sansa’s face. It sent chills down her spine.

“How old are you, Alayne?”

“Nineteen,” she answered softly. Melisandre’s eyes widened slightly at the age, brow arched in slight confusion.

“You are rather young looking to be that old,” she stated knowingly, but Sansa shrugged her shoulders again.

“I don’t think nine and ten is that old, my lady.”

“Melisandre, my dear.” Sansa smiled at the gentle way she was corrected. The older woman watched her quietly for a full minute, staring at her hard before glancing away. Her eyes locking onto a candle set on the table between them, the flame licking at the open air. “Where do you intend to go?”

“Pardon?” Sansa frowned. Melisandre turned back to her.

“Where do you intend to go from here? Jon Snow cannot provide you shelter for long unless…” she trailed off, glancing back over to the candle once more. It was like the flames flickering from the wick consumed her attention; engrossing her entirely.

Sansa meant to state where she would go, but instead, she said, “Unless what?”

Abruptly, Melisandre was kneeling before her, hand pressed against Sansa’s stomach gently as she gazed into her eyes. “Unless you allow the Lord Commander to put his seed into your womb.” Sansa’s eyes widened, and jaw dropped at the audacity of the red woman, but it was the look in her eyes that scared her most; those all-seeing eyes.

“I don’t understand,” Sansa mumbled out, her breaths coming out in short pants. Melisandre cocked her head to the side.

“Don’t you, Sansa Stark?” she asked bluntly, a smile stretching across her face at how wide Sansa’s eyes became. How could she have known?!

“How?”

“I saw it in the flames; your hair red like autumn leaves and belly rounded with child. And I saw Lord Snow kissing you on the lips.” She pulled away after that, standing up, and giving Sansa much-needed space though she still felt like she couldn’t breathe.

The implication of her words both scared and thrilled her. The thought of her hair being natural, yet being with Jon openly enough to kiss, and being pregnant as well. It seemed too good to be true though. Brienne had stated her skepticism of the red woman’s ability to see into the future through flames. But the fact that she deduced who Sansa truly was and not based on what little she had told the other woman…maybe her visions weren’t so baseless at all.

“I find it curious how your future comes to be as I’ve seen, considering Jon Snow is your bastard, half-brother,” Melisandre commented thoughtfully. Sansa shook her head, just as clueless as the red woman was.

“You won’t tell King Stannis my true identity, will you?” Sansa inquired fearfully, but the other woman shook her head softly.

“My visions are not always so vivid and clear, but the one I’ve seen of you and Lord Snow was. I will not interfere by giving him this information.” Sansa let out a breath of relief, her heart slowing down from the panicked state it had been a moment ago. “I will see you another time, Lady Alayne.”

The silence of the room after Melisandre left was stifling. The coldness surrounding her while she was oppressed by the mere silence that echoed inside her head. She needed air; she needed warmth…

She needed Jon.

Sansa stood up quickly, almost knocking the chair down behind her as she walked quickly to the door and out of her chambers. She was greeted by two of the men standing guard in the hall. Sansa smiled lightly at them then walked past to find Jon, knowing he would most likely be in his solar.

The air was bracingly cold, reminding her that she had forgotten her cloak back in her temporary chambers. Her heart beat heavily into her ribcage as her mind went back over what Melisandre had said. Her thoughts revolved around the vision she had seen, the vision of Sansa pregnant, happy, and with Jon. It was both overwhelming and fear-inducing. The idea that she could possibly have something even akin to a happy ending seemed so farfetched to Sansa like her many dreams in her girlhood; it seemed like pure fantasy.

Approaching the Lord Commander’s solar, she stopped for a moment to catch her breath and level out her rapidly beating heart. The cold helped, chasing away any of her warmth along with the suffocating anxiety she had been enduring earlier. Sansa knocked on the door tentatively then entered. Jon looked up from his writing, a smile on his lips at the sight of her.

“San-,” he paused abruptly, face pinched with his eyes closed tightly at his almost blunder before opening his eyes to continue, “Alayne.”

She only smiled, shutting the door quietly behind her. His mere presence did more to calm her than the cold outside. Sansa looked around his solar carefully this time, taking in the warmth of not only the fire but the whole setup of the room. She could tell this was not entirely Jon’s work; it had to have been the previous Lord Commander.

“I need to remember to call you that,” Jon mumbled, his tone bordering on annoyance at himself.

“It gets some getting used to, and you will. It took practice with Brienne and Pod calling me ‘Alayne’ for me to remember and respond to the name,” Sansa stated lightly, smiling at the slow nod he gave her.

“Speaking of your friends, I made sure Stannis’ men searched the surrounding area where they found you and further. Hopefully, they are both found soon and aren’t harmed.” Sansa felt the tension in her shoulders at the thought of her friends. She knew Brienne would survive, she was one of the strongest women she had ever met. Surely, she could have fought and won against the few men that stayed behind while she was pursued.

Even Pod could handle at least one of the men, himself. Even she had. Sansa shuddered at the memory, the strange feeling of blood lingered on her fingers even though they were cleaned and dried. Her heart felt heavy, and the suffocating feeling from before in her chambers was back.

“Jon, could you take me up on the Wall?” Her question seemed to have shocked him for a moment as he stared at her in surprise. She approached his desk, skimming her fingers across the wood as she waited for his answer.

“It’s dreadfully cold up there, and not much to see,” Jon answered, glancing between her pleading eyes and wandering fingers. “Where is your cloak?” he asked as an afterthought.

“I’m sure you could keep me warm.” You already do, she thought, pursing her lips together while fluttering her eyelashes at him as she ignored his question. Heat danced beneath her skin, following down her body to her abdomen where it pooled into a lava of fire.

“Sansa,” he breathed.

“Alayne,” she corrected, crawling her fingers over his papers to trail lightly over his splayed hand. Sansa lightly stroked the fine hairs on his fingers and over his knuckles before clasping her hand over the top of his. She noted the thick swallow at her touch. “Please, Lord Commander, take me to the top of the Wall. Take me to the end of the world.”

Jon’s eyes seemed to darken as he peered at her. His hand beneath hers, curled into a fist, all tense and tight. Then he breathed out softly, tension leaving his hand up to his shoulders before he nodded.

“Alright,” he agreed, pulling his hand from beneath hers to stand. “But only for a little while. It may not seem like it, but I do have work to do.” Sansa couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her at his grumpy demeanor.

He got up from his desk, turning around and disappearing through a door for a moment before appearing once more with a cloak in his hand. Jon held it out for Sansa to take. She smiled even wider with rosy red cheeks, wrapping the cloak around her shoulders and inhaling his lingering scent in the wool while Jon grabbed another one for himself. Once he was set, he led the way out of his solar.

Sansa followed Jon along the wooden walkway, she noted that it was starting to lightly snow. A sense of nostalgia came over her as they stepped down onto the frosted dirt with the snowflakes lightly sprinkling overhead. Memories of Winterfell during summer snows came to mind. Sansa could almost see Robb with sprinkles of snowflakes in his auburn hair and Arya and Bran running around while tossing snowballs at each other.

The snow had just started, so there was not quite enough to make snowballs with. The thought made her heart ache in want.

Eyes burned through the warmth of Jon’s cloak around her shoulders. The men of the Watch stared them down as they made their way across the frosted ground. Sansa kept her gaze ahead, ignoring the burning pathways on her body though she noticed the tension in Jon’s face. He didn’t like being scrutinized, and she felt terrible for being the reason why he was.

Her spirits lifted up though when they approached the carrier attached to the giant, icy Wall. Sansa allowed her gaze to trail up, up, up the Wall. She craned her neck back, and still, the Wall continued to expand. She heard a light chuckle, drawing her attention to Jon. He had the gate lifted on the carrier, smiling at possibly the expression on her face.

“You ready to go up?” he inquired softly, the tension from their walk slowly evaporating from his being.

“Yes,” she breathed out, stepping into the wooden contraption as Jon worked the pulley system then shut the gate down, locking it into place. The carrier made a jerking lurch, tossing Sansa back against the side before it slowly made its ascent up.

“Make sure you’re wrapped up tight, it’s extremely cold up there,” Jon warned before turning to her and grabbing the sides of his cloak to adjust it on her shoulders.

Sansa softly sucked airtightly through her mouth while Jon tightened the cloak around her shoulders then her waist. Another terrible lurch knocked him forward. His hands came up, slamming against the grated sides to brace himself before her. Jon’s face was very close to hers, close enough to feel his heated breath on her cheeks and nose. Sansa reached up to grasp the front of his cloak, feeling her body tingle all over from his proximity.

“It’s a bumpy ride,” he mumbled, his brow creased downward. She gave a vague nod though Sansa could not remember what he had just said as she was all but consumed by his presence and darkening eyes.

Her tongue slipped out to swipe across her bottom lip and heat exploded throughout her chest when she noticed his eyes dropping to witness the action. Sansa’s fingers tightened into an uncomfortable fist in his cloak; the urge to pull him forward was growing stronger. It felt like time had all but stopped.

He’s inching closer, Sansa realized, a slight tremor running beneath her skin. He’s going to kiss me, she thought. A burning tingle raced down her spine as his nose brushed the tip of hers then he gently, sweetly nuzzled his cold nose against hers. Sansa closed her eyes at the gesture, returning his nuzzling with her own.

It felt far more intimate than a normal kiss ever could be.

“Sansa,” Jon breathed before a screeching noise interrupted them, then he was pulling back from her swiftly.

There was another lurch as the carrier stopped at the top of the Wall. Sansa was better braced and hardly moved. Her face was so hot, she barely felt the icy cold winds blowing through the carrier. Jon seemed rather red in the face, averting his eyes from her to fiddle with the gate on the opposite side before lifting it up.

“Careful,” he started, coughing to cover the rough, huskiness of his voice. “Stay on the stone path; otherwise you may slip and fall.”

Sansa nodded, taking a small step off the carrier and onto the stone pathway. Once she was secure in her footing, she took in her surroundings to see the vastness of the sky beyond the Wall. She noted the compacted snow and ice that created small stations on the other side of the Wall. Defense stations.

Jon waved her along, pointing out the different stations and elaborating their uses when she asked. They stayed on the stoned path as Jon spoke of his tales, telling her about the first time he had been up here with Ghost.

“I miss him,” Sansa mumbled, thinking of the white, red-eyed direwolf.

“He should be coming back soon.” There was a slight twinge in her neck as she whipped around to stare at Jon with wide eyes.

“He’s still alive?!” Jon arched a brow, a laughing grin on his lips.

“Aye. Still alive and still silent as ever. He left on a hunt a day ago; he should be coming back soon.” Sansa felt perplexed by his answer.

“How do you know?” she asked, feeling a strange sense of loss come over her. She knew the answer though. He’s connected to him like as I had been with Lady, Sansa forlornly thought, pushing back against the immense ache that thought brought along.

“I just…know…” Jon vaguely answered, and she accepted it for what he meant. “What happened to Lady?” he questioned after a brief moment of silence between them. Sansa drew her gaze down at her shuffling feet.

“There was an incident between Arya and…Joffrey. She was playing with that butcher’s boy, My-Mycah, I believe his name was. Joffrey thought to defend Arya, and she did not take to that well. One thing led to another, and Nymeria attacked Joffrey for pushing Arya to the ground, she bit his arm and wrist harshly. Arya said Nymeria ran away, so Cersei Lannister decided to have Lady killed in her place for the harm done to Joffrey.”

Sansa felt her eyes water as she remembered that night. She could almost feel the pain that poor Lady had most likely felt as she died. Her mind went over everything once again, wondering if there were anyway things could have been different. Jon mumbled his sympathy, reaching down to grasp her hand to give her a squeeze.

“I think what I regret most is that I didn’t acknowledge Arya’s correct version of what happened, but I was just so scared! I’m supposed to marry him, and the way he acted, oh Jon! I should have seen him for the monster he was! Instead, I said I couldn’t remember, and Arya hated me for it! Oh gods, I said so many horrible things to her before she disappeared,” Sansa wept loudly, releasing Jon’s hand to bury her face into her hands to hide her tears and her shame.

She wished she could go back and change everything, she wished she could tell her sister that she was sorry for what happened to them and she was sorry that she did not have her back as sisters should. Sansa wished she could wrap her arms tightly around Arya and never, ever let go.

“I’m a terrible sister! No wonder she never loved me!” Sansa cried into her hands before she was enclosed in strong and warm arms.

“Don’t say that! Arya loved you dearly! She may not have understood you as you hadn’t her, but that doesn’t mean she did not love you,” Jon reassured her, rubbing a hand up and down her back while his other hand grasped the nape of her neck to hold her tightly into his shoulder.

“How can you be sure though? We had such an awful fight before she disappeared. I was upset that we were leaving King’s Landing, and I said such awful, awful things to her then I…” Sansa drifted off as she realized what happened next.

I told Cersei about father’s plans…

Sansa started to struggle against Jon’s arms, dread and despair worming its way into her chest.

“Sansa stop!” Jon grumbled, barely exerting strength to hold her still.

“You don’t understand!” she wailed, pushing at his chest though he did not relinquish his hold.

“Then tell me!”

She couldn’t though because if she told him that it was her fault, then he would hate her too. Her struggles stalled before she just sunk into his embrace, letting his soothing words in her ear ease the ache and desolation wreaking havoc inside her mind. Sansa wanted to tell him the truth, to be like their father and be as truthful as possible, but she feared his reaction the most.

I can’t tell him, I can’t lose him too, she thought sadly, slipping her hands beneath his cloak to wrap around his chest and claw at his back. She moved her face around settling her nose against his warm neck, breathing in his scent.

“I’m so afraid, Jon,” Sansa finally admitted, squeezing her eyes shut when he tightened his grip around her back.

“I will protect you, I promise,” Jon vowed, and this time, Sansa believed him completely…

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had fun writing Jon's version of the kiss (I pulled up Sansa's version beside my doc and elaborated on Jon's by re-reading hers) including the reasons why he reacted towards her unexpected kiss and his feelings towards her. Stannis has put him in a rather hard stop and it will be a tough decision for him to make. Save Sansa by denying her right of birth and forcing her to forever be Alayne, but safe with him as her husband, or once more state that Winterfell is Sansa's and risk her living and disappearing for good. Then there are Sansa's fears, including Melisandre and her vision of Sansa's future. I tell ya, I seriously wrote that scene without realizing the implications and such, I wasn't even really thinking (that scares me sometimes, that I get so into my writing that I write whole scenes without much thought). We will be seeing more of Mel too, including a tentative friendship between her and Sansa as well. 
> 
> Another thing I never intended was Sansa telling Jon about Arya and Lady. I must have been feeling it because I was kind of emotional when I wrote that ending scene, lol. That's another thing that will get worked out too, the implications of what happened in KL and Sansa's emotional state. 
> 
> I hope this was well worth the wait! I meant to post this chapter yesterday, but work drains my body and soul and school drains my mind so...let me know whatcha think!? ^_~


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay!! I bet y'all are so happy to see this update! I've been working on this chapter for longer than I wish, but I was having a bit of writers block and college courses don't make it easy to make time to write either. Honestly, I thought I had this story figured out. But then more ideas start coming and the feeling that it'd be too rushed if I went the original plan and now...I don't really have too much an idea how this story will come along anymore. I don't even have a plot written for chapter 6 right now, so I'll have to work on that before the next chapter. Hopefully it won't be months before that happens. 
> 
> Anywho, I am very proud of this chapter! Definitely pushes the plot onward in a good, angst filled, uncertainty way. So without further ado, enjoy!! ^_~

 

 

The ride back down was far less eventful than the ride up the Wall. Jon felt incredibly torn between holding Sansa tightly, and never wanting to let go, and keeping his distance from her. She became rather quiet after bursting into tears on top of the Wall and eventually, he tugged her along back to the carrier. The air between them was somewhat tense and awkward, Jon glanced at her periodically.

Sansa’s face was less blotchy than when she was crying though her eyes still looked rather red, at least they weren’t watery. Thoughts of his previous conversation with Stannis littered him with guilt. He had meant to talk to her about what was offered to him, but with everything that had already happened, Jon didn’t have it in him to add one more grief to her heart.

I’ll tell her before supper, Jon amended though it did little to alleviate the guilt eating away at him.

It was snowing heavily now, and most of the men were inside, away from the bracing cold. Jon walked Sansa back to her chambers, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll have someone prepare a bath for you,” Jon offered, reaching up to wipe at a rough patch of dirt on her cheek. For a moment, he felt perplexed, realizing that she hadn’t bathed since arriving last night, nor had Sansa asked for a bath either. Another eye-opening moment he hadn’t noticed till now.

She smiled at the offer, bowing her head as her face reddened in embarrassment. “That would be lovely,” she answered softly. The urge to touch her rippled through his being, but he held the want at bay, curling his hands into fists while leaving her inside her chambers.

Those urges and wants that Jon had been so successful in holding back were starting to flood his being again. It was like he merely found his feelings on the ground and picked them up to resume where he had left off back in Winterfell. Except now it seemed even harder than before because now he knew that Sansa seemed to feel something out of the ordinary for him and he knew what it was like to lay with a woman.

Haunting images of Ygritte assaulted his mind. Her crooked teeth gleaming in her playful smirk as she gazed heatedly at him. Her raspy words spoken softly in his ear after he had her the first time, stating he must know something for her to feel so good.

Jon rubbed his forehead after slamming the door shut to his chambers. The last thing he needed was a reminder of someone he lost mixing in with someone he had once known. He did muse how both of their hair was red but such different shades of the color.

Ygritte’s was more like an open flame, harsh yet soothing to look upon. Sansa’s was like the early days of autumn where the leaves changed to shades of red and orange. Her hair even reminded him of the heart tree in Winterfell, lighter in the day and darker in the night. Yet…yet they both resembled each other though the color was on different spectrums of red.

Groaning, Jon looked upon his desk to find a few scrolls that one of his men left for him. Figuring that placing his mind on his work would keep the thoughts of the two red heads closest to his heart at bay, he tore into the scrolls and read the contents within.

One of them was from Sam at the citadel. He spoke of the many things he was learning and the nice quality time he was having with Gilly and her son. Jon smiled, despite himself upon reading Sam’s words. It brought an ache to his heart as his fellow Night Watch brother’s words of love brought back memories of Ygritte…and feelings that he knew he should not be feeling for another.

Jon pushed the letter aside, half read as he tried to refocus on his mind. Instead, his thoughts brought up how close Sansa stood to him on the ride up the Wall. He thought of how pretty she looked with her reddened cheeks, and bright, blue eyes that were more stunning than the crystal blue of the icy Wall. Even her darken hair was pretty though it could not compare to the beautiful red it had once been.

And her sweet, soft lips…

Jon groaned, shifting his legs uncomfortably. His mind kept going back to that kiss she laid on his lips last night. That kiss that burned into his very soul. That kiss that reawakened the beast within him. That kiss that made him wish to kiss her more, to kiss more than just her lips. Disgust and anger raged inside him at those very thoughts. She was his sister, she came here looking for protection and care. Sansa most definitely did not come to him for that type of attention.

But then she kissed him like she did…

Jon dropped his head to his desk, groaning at the circular way his thoughts continued to revolve around Sansa. Maybe if he got some actual work done, maybe then he could figure out a better solution for them. A safer solution, especially for Sansa…

\--------------------------------------

Dread burrowed a hole into his chest as he made his way to the chambers Sansa resided. Every step of the way, he could feel it growing larger and deeper. Jon couldn’t help the nerves though. He wasn’t sure how Sansa was going to react to the news he was finally about to share with her. He had sat in his solar for a few hours, trying his damnest to get through some paperwork, but his mind would not focus for long.

Jon kept thinking about what Stannis had offered him. The more he thought about it, the more enticing the scenario became and the less inclined he was to dismiss it completely. Yet, he couldn’t decide for his sister, especially a decision such as this.

It was wrong though, his mind shot back. She was his half-sister, they shared a father and siblings that were all long dead. They shared blood and they were Starks, or at least he was descended from the Starks.

 _ _“You may not have my name__ ** _,_** _but_ _ _you have my__ _blood.”_

Jon flinched at the memory of his father’s voice, the last memory he had of Eddard Stark. Shame iced down his back at the licentious thoughts he had of his sister. He stopped before a set of stairs that would lead up to where her chambers were, his hand gripping the banister tightly. What would his father think of him? What would Robb or Arya, hells, what would Catelyn think of him?

He could imagine the anger and disgust welling in each of their eyes. He could see it so clearly that it took his breath away. Jon couldn’t even defend himself against the imaginary scrutiny either. He knew these feelings were wrong, it was one of the many reasons why he chose to go to the Wall. He knew and yet, he still wanted her.

What exactly did that say about him?

I’m a weak-willed, lustful bastard, that is what that says about me, Jon thought angrily.

He pushed off the banister, stomping his feet to ease the anger boiling inside him. Regardless, he still had to tell his sister the proposition. It was the right thing to do then he would decline Stannis once more. Winterfell belonged to Sansa; there was no room for a bastard like him at the helm.

His fist knocked gently on her door, waiting to hear her call out for him to enter. Upon entering, Jon composed himself as best as he could, not wishing for Sansa to see his anger at himself. His eyes located her sitting by the window, her hair mostly dry from her bath while she was dressed in a pair of breeches and long tunic that swallowed her body. She looked comfortable though, her eyes shining brightly at the sight of him and a smile gracing her lovely lips.

Don’t think about her lips, he groaned inside his head.

“Jon, I hadn’t been expecting you so soon,” Sansa greeted, leaning over to wave at the chair beside hers.

“When were you expecting me exactly?” he asked, closing the door behind him before crossing the room to seat himself where she wanted him. The candle on the side table flickered at the flow of air upon his approach, drawing his attention to the flame for a moment.

What would the Lady Melisandre see if she were here? More non-sense possibly.

“I thought you would escort me to dinner.” Jon nodded at her answer. “But you’re here early, did you wish to talk more?”

Though she sounded at ease, he noted the tension in her eyes and the smile dropping from her lips. Her face told him she was not ready to speak more about the time after they left Winterfell and he could not fault her that. Jon didn’t wish to console her through her tears again, he wanted to only make her happy, to keep her happy.

Could this proposition do that? He wasn’t entirely sure of the answer.

“Yes, but I’m here to tell you about a proposition the King has proposed to me earlier this morning,” Jon stated, trying to relax in his seat, but his tense muscles and building dread didn’t allow him to.

Sansa seemed to notice his tenseness and a frown came to her lips as her brow wrinkled in concern. “Should I be worried about this proposition?” she asked softly, her hands tugging lightly at the hem of her borrowed tunic.

Jon almost reached over to still her anxious fingers, but he stopped himself. Touching her would only make things worse on him, touching her would only encourage him to touch her more.

“Yes, no,” Jon shrugged uselessly. “About a fortnight ago, Stannis came to me with an offer. He offered to give me Winterfell and to make me Jon Stark if I left the Wall and became one of his supporters.” Sansa nodded her understanding; a frown pursed her lips into a flat line. “I declined the offer because Winterfell…it belongs to you, to Sansa Stark.”

“Jon…” she mumbled with bright eyes. He looked away though because that wasn’t the end of it. She wouldn’t be so grateful once she learned about the second proposition.

“This morning, after breaking our fast, he came to me with the same offer. Only this time he said that he would allow me to…” Jon choked on his words for a moment, and only once he closed his eyes were he able to finish his sentence. “He said that he would allow me to wed Alayne Stone, for us to become Jon Stark and Alayne Stark if I accepted his following and took back Winterfell.”

Jon opened his eyes then peered over at her. Sansa stared down at the floor, rolling over his words. She didn’t look upset though as far as he could see. She looked to be mulling it over, the proposition and the outcomes, the consequences and implications. It was nothing but silence between them and it was slowly driving him up the wall.

“Do you,” Sansa started, licking her dry lips much to his agony, “Do you wish to have Winterfell?” Slowly, she lifted her eyes to connect with his. Jon could see that she was curious, not upset which was rather curious in of itself.

“What?” he inquired.

“Do you want Winterfell, Jon? Do you want to be a Stark in name?” Her questions swirled around his brain and all he wanted to do was scream ‘yes’. He wanted it though he knew it was wrong, he wanted it more than anything.

He wanted to be a Stark in name, he wanted to be back at Winterfell where he truly belonged, and he…he wanted Sansa to be his wife, to carry his children, and to be by his side. Jon wanted it so badly that it was an ache inside his very bones. But it was wrong, all of it was wrong and he had no right to any of his wishes.

He never did.

“It doesn’t matter, Winterfell belongs to my sister, Sansa and I just want to keep you safe.”

Sansa stared at him for a long time, her eyes watered, her lips parted and shaky breaths left her mouth. She then stood quickly, coming before him then she was dropping to her knees with her hands cupping his cheeks. Jon sat still, shivering at the sweet touch of her hands on his face. Sansa licked her lips again then she pressed forward, taking Jon by surprise as she kissed him deeply.

The kiss sent a shockwave down his spine and before he could stop himself, he was kissing her back. His hands found their way into her dark hair, grasping the tiny hairs at the nape of her neck. Sansa moaned into his mouth. He took advantage, sliding his tongue into her mouth as he pulled her firmly between his legs. Her hands combed into his loose, curly hair, drawing a groan from him.

Their tongues tangled between their mouths and it was better than Jon thought it would be. Gods, he had dreamt of kissing her like this for far longer than he was willing to admit. Jon devoured her mouth, claiming her as his own. One of his hands dropped from her hair to grasp at her waist, trying to pin her to him, trying to pull her inside him. Sansa didn’t seem to mind as she was pulling him to her as much as he was pulling her to him.

Her hands clawed his hair, yanking at the strands deliciously. Jon moaned deeply, his cock hardening within his breeches quickly. He wanted nothing more than to lay her out on her bed and take her for himself. The image of her spread out on the bed, her legs clutching either side of his hips as he pounded between her thighs. He could even image the tight grip her cunt would have on his cock.

Jon could practically feel it right now though both of them were clothed.

His hand drew up her waist, cupping her breast over the tunic to feel she wasn’t wearing a corset underneath. His hand cupped her breast tightly, brushing a thumb over her puckered nipple. The action drew a whine from Sansa’s lips that sent a tingle straight down to his twitching cock.

 _ _“You may not have my name__ ** _,_** _but_ _ _you have my__ _blood.”_

Jon yanked his head back, escaping the hard suction of Sansa’s lips as their father’s words echoed painfully inside his mind. Her eyes were darker, pupils blown wide, and lips swollen and red. She looked so tempting; so, enticing. Jon almost pulled her back to him, but Eddard’s voice kept him at bay.

“This is wrong, Sansa,” Jon said breathlessly, withdrawing his hands from her body.

“I don’t care,” Sansa stated with a shake of her head. Jon closed his hands into fists to keep his impulses under his will.

“We’re siblings,” he continued, trying to reason with her even though he wished for a reason to say fuck it.

“I love you! I love you so dearly and so much, Jon.” Her confession threw him, jumbling his mind as it blundered. He could hardly form a coherent thought to the words she spoke. “If not for you in my thoughts, I would not have survived King’s Landing. It was you and the thought of returning to you, of receiving your love that carried me on while I was unlawfully punished for Robb’s winning battles. It was you that gave me strength to endure, and it was you that awakened the woman inside me.”

Jon’s mouth dropped open in shock. Vaguely, his hand came up to cover his mouth. He couldn’t understand what she meant by it being him that helped her when he was at the Wall the whole time. He couldn’t seem to understand her thought process. Last he remembered, Sansa didn’t have much care for him, no doubt that she loved him as he was her half-brother, but he never thought she loved him so deeply.

She had kissed him like a lover, he thought; he knew how much she loved him, but Jon completely underestimated how deep her feelings ran for him.

Sansa brought her hands from his hair, startling him. She placed her hands on his chest, gazing up into his eyes. “Do you remember that day, the day we played and you kissed me?” Jon merely nodded, still speechless. “That day has stuck with me ever since. That kiss stayed in the back of my mind ever since and when I was beaten in court for Robb’s successes, it was the remembrance of that kiss, of what else there could be that helped me carry on.”

Jon felt flooded with so much information. She remembered that kiss? She was beaten in front of court? She thought of more between them? Jon was literally drowning in the overflow of information.

“Sansa, I…” he managed to croak out, still lacking the words to say to her. Internally, he wanted to scream back how much he loved her too, but their father in his mind held him back.

“Please, Jon, tell me…tell me I’m not wrong in that you feel the same. Tell me that you at least care for me even half as much as I care for you. Tell me that there is something here between us,” Sansa urged him with watery eyes and a tight voice.

Yet, Jon couldn’t answer her. He couldn’t tell her what she wanted to hear because in the end, it was wrong. They shouldn’t care for each other like this. They shouldn’t have touched or kissed like lovers. There shouldn’t be anything between them but familial love. He wanted to tell Sansa what she wanted to hear, what he truly felt, but he couldn’t and he shouldn’t.

With his own watery eyes, Jon told her, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Answer me!” Sansa cried out, her tears overflowing to trail down her cheeks. Jon shook his head.

“I can’t…I-I can’t, I’m sorry.” Jon then stood up, sliding away from her to escape the room that was helping to drown him with his thoughts. He couldn’t breath, he couldn’t think, he could hardly function.

He didn’t know what to do anymore…

\--------------------------------------

Sansa curled up in her bed, pulling the furs up to bury herself beneath them, maybe it’ll suffocate her. Her chest hurts so much. It felt like her heart was bleeding out within her chest, bleeding away to leave her barren and broken. She hadn’t imagined that Jon would not accept her love. She hadn’t imagined that he would be so conflicted, and she felt so very stupid for not thinking about the consequences of her actions.

I’ve pushed him away, she thought tearfully, pressing her face deeper into her pillow. She confused him, Sansa could tell and she scared him away.

With every thump of her heart, pain radiated throughout her being. It hurt so much inside. Worse than what she endured in King’s Landing. Maybe even worse than when she learned of her families’ deaths. It was one more pain to add to the many more she bared upon her soul; upon her heart. One more invisible scar that only she could feel and no one else could see.

Her knees pressed into her chest as she tried to curl up into a tight ball. Sansa kept her arms wrapped around her knees with her forehead held down upon them. It made it hard to breath with the added suffocation of her pain and gasping tears. Yet, it was the only thing that gave her any type of comfort.

Sansa stayed curled up underneath her furs for who knew how long until there was a knock at her door. She half hoped, half dreaded that it was Jon, back to talk sense into her. Another knock came then the soft timber of Ed’s voice asking her if she was alright came through the door. Sansa stuck her head out from under the furs, gasping at the cool air that touched her sweaty, tear streaked face.

“I’m fine,” she answered though her thick throat gave away how she was truly feeling. Ed was quiet on the other side of the door.

“Would you like me to bring you dinner here?” he asked next, bringing a smile to her lips at how thoughtful he was. She answered ‘yes’, and he left abruptly to retrieve her food.

Sansa took that time to get out of bed, walking over to a basin of water to splash the icy cold liquid on her face. A glance at a small hand mirror on the dresser showed her how red and splotchy her face was from crying. Her eyes were bloodshot as well, giving away her pain. She splashed more water on her face then tied her hair back in a long braid down her back as she thought about what she would do now.

Stannis gave his proposition to Jon, and if he said ‘no’ then she would most definitely have to leave. The Wall was no place for a woman. She had no place here, nor at Winterfell either. Then where is my place, Sansa thought forlornly as she fiddled with the tail of her braid.

A knock came to her door once more and she called for Ed to enter. He came in walking stiffly, a plate of food in one hand and a mug of ale in the other. Sansa realized why he was walking stiffly when Stannis Baratheon came in after him, a plate of food and ale in his own hands.

“I hope you don’t mind, my lady, if I dine with you tonight,” Stannis asked tightly, not even waiting for her response as he set his plate and ale down on the side table between the two chairs in the corner. Ed followed suit, glancing at her cautiously and most likely noticing her reddened face.

“Thank you, ser,” Sansa said gently, proceeding over to seat herself across from the self-proclaimed King. Ed mumbled a ‘welcome’ then left briskly. It was obvious he didn’t wish to stay in Stannis’ presence anymore than he had too.

She didn’t blame him either.

Sansa took a slow sip of her ale, withholding her gag at the taste. It was definitely an acquired taste, one she didn’t wish to acquire, honestly. Her plate had sweet corn, a small turkey leg, and small root potatoes upon it. She managed to swallow some corn and a piece of turkey while enduring the silence between them.

“How are you feeling today?” Stannis inquired moments later. She glanced up from her food to see him watching her intently.

“Rested and clean,” Sansa answered slowly, taking another sip of ale to wash the food she barely tasted down her throat.

“You look better.” She could tell he wasn’t one for small talk by how stiff and tense he was as he spoke. She knew he was here with a purpose and she wanted nothing more than to curl up into a ball once more, so it was time to stop beating around the bush.

“I feel there is more you wish to say to me, your grace.” Stannis frowned at her intuitiveness then nodded.

“Yes, there is. Have you spoke to Lord Commander Snow?”

She nodded though she didn’t voice out what they talked about. The tick in his cheek told her that he was bothered by her unresponsiveness.

“Has he spoke to about my proposition?” Stannis asked further, ripping a large chuck of turkey off his leg to eat.

Sansa shook her head, deciding it was safer to pretend she knew nothing of the proposition. She wished to see what he would say to her, if he would tell her exactly what he had told Jon earlier that day. Stannis looked mildly annoyed at her answer as he chewed.

“I spoke to him this morning about a proposition, one that involves yourself,” Stannis started out, wiping at his mouth before going on, “as you know, the Lannister’s hold King’s Landing with Joffrey Baratheon as King though he is nothing but a product of incest between Cersei Lannister and her twin, Jamie. The right of Kingship thus belongs to me as the second eldest after Robert, who is dead.”

Sansa nodded, picking at her potatoes.

“I need more support from the Northern Lords, more men in my army to be able to attack King’s Landing again and take back the throne.”

“And you need Jon,” Sansa continued, dropping her fork to her mostly uneaten plate.

“Yes. He is the last of the Starks, the last son of the true Warden in the North. If he agrees to leave the Wall behind and support my claim then I will name him Jon Stark and make him Lord of Winterfell and Warden in the North.” Sansa kept her hands clenched beneath the table so he could not see how irksome his words were.

Last of the Starks, indeed. If only he knew he was speaking to Sansa Stark right now. She kept her eyes down though, not wanting him to see her anger nor give herself away to him.

“If Jon agrees then I will pardon him from the Wall and I will allow him to wed his lover. To wed you, Alayne Stone,” Stannis finished quickly, gulping down his ale as he allowed her to think over his words.

It was exactly as Jon had told her. A throbbing ache echoed inside her heart, pumping through her veins.

“He will never agree though,” Sansa mumbled sadly then added, “He has too much honor to defect from the Wall.”

“Then convince him otherwise,” the King implored sternly. She frowned, finally looking up to see him with his hardened gaze on her.

“And how do you suppose I do that…your grace.” She barely added on ‘your grace’ with her snippy reply. She didn’t like how he was speaking to her, how he treated her like she should fling herself at Jon to convince him.

Stannis fixed a knowing look at her, eyebrow arched up his wrinkled forehead. Sansa gave him a blank expression in return.

“Let me give you some advice, my lady. I will be leaving Winterfell with my men in a fortnight and if Jon Snow is not leaving with me then there will be no place for you here at the Wall. This is no place for women.” Stannis brought his hand up to his chin, giving a thoughtful expression that looked rather foreign on his features. “I hear there is good lodging in Mole’s Town for a woman of your status.”

Sansa swallowed tightly at the insinuation in his tone and words. She knew what was in Mole’s Town; whores. He was calling her a ‘whore’. Her nails bit into her palms as her eyes narrowed.

“What about Sansa Stark, or Arya Stark? Either could still be alive. Is not a trueborn daughter worth more than a bastard son?” Sansa questioned firmly. She hated to call Jon a bastard, it left a terrible taste in her mouth that not even the bad ale could wash away.

Stannis snorted with a roll of his eyes. “Both girls are as good as dead, if they are not already. No man would willingly follow a girl even if she had the blood of Winterfell to fall back on. The most either could offer is a marriage alliance, but no one has seen either of them in many moons. I need a Stark right now, and Jon Snow will be that Stark. So, if you know what is good for you, my lady, then you will convince him to take my offer this time. I won’t repeat myself again.”

Sansa merely nodded, watching as he stood up from his seat then proceeded out her door with a nod. She frowned at his left behind plate and mug. Such a wonderful King he was. She scraped his left-over food onto her plate, consolidating them together then forced herself to finish her ale even though it left a hollow feeling in her stomach.

How could she possibly convince Jon to accept Stannis’ offer? She couldn’t even get him to accept her feelings. Sansa sniffled, raising her eyes up to the ceiling in a lame attempt at keeping her tears at bay. He would never defect from the Wall either. Jon was nothing if not like their father, he wouldn’t abandon his brothers; not even for her.

That was probably what hurt the most for her. The fact that Sansa knew deeply in her heart that Jon would never choose her over his duty, over his honor. Her eyes closed tightly, tears leaking out of the corners. She could go to him naked as her name day and still, he would not choose love over his duty. Not for anyone and especially not for her.

Sansa wiped away her tears, taking a deep breath to try and ease the pain inside her chest. She thought about calling for one of the men at the end of the hall, guarding her chambers to take the plates and mugs, but instead she collapsed on her bed.

She laid there for so long that she started to doze off. Abruptly, the door to her room opened then slammed shut. Sansa shot up, still half asleep as she took in the reappearance of Jon. He stood by her door, breathing deeply, his shoulders moving up and down with each harsh breath. There was snow melting in his dark hair and cloak, obviously he had been out in the courtyard.

“Jon,” Sansa mumbled, sitting up further to drape her legs over the side of the bed. “What are you doing here?”

“I am so sorry, Sansa,” Jon started out, moving further into the room. His hands were gripping tightly by his sides; gloveless.

His hands must be frozen, she thought vaguely.

“I’m so sorry for running out like that, I just…I couldn’t think straight. It was too much happening, too much going on in here,” Jon distractedly waved at his head, indicating the thoughts swirling around in his mind. “I can’t take your claim, I can’t accept this…this,” he waved his hand between them, “it’s wrong, all of it is wrong! And I will not dishonor you like this.”

Sansa watched him pace around the room, his face pulled downward into a brooding frown. His words hurt, but his anxious movements spoke of a caged animal. One that wished to be freed. He can’t accept what was there between them, but at the same time, she realized that he did want too. It was honor that held him back.

“You realize you cannot dishonor me if I want it, don’t you?” Sansa finally questioned, watching as he slowed in his pacing while throwing a wild glance at her.

“Sansa.”

“It’s Alayne, Jon. Remember, it’s Alayne, and you won’t be taking my claim,” Sansa stated as she stood up, walking the short distance to approach him. “You will simply be holding it for me. So, do it, do what you clearly wish to do. Accept his offer, become Jon Stark.” Jon immediately started to shake his head, turning away from her.

“I can’t do that,” he stated quickly.

“Yes, you can! Just accept it, Jon! Wed me and protect me like you said you would! This is the only way!” Jon whipped around to glare at her, stepping right into her personal space.

“There will be another way! If I take Stannis’ offer, if I become Jon Stark and wed Alayne Stone then what will happen when Sansa Stark is found out?! Stannis is willing to kill his nephew for being a product of incest, what do you think he’d do to us if he found out?! He has no love for our father before his death, nor would he hold any love for either of us once we out live our usefulness to him,” Jon paused, taking a step back as they were almost nose to nose then said again in a far calmer voice, “there will be another way and I will protect you, no matter what.”

Sansa shook her head though, turning away from him to avoid showing her watery eyes. He was wrong. There would be no other way, this was the only way to secure her safety. Her thoughts went back to that morning with Melisandre and her vision. She deduced her identity without so much as knowing her family outside of Jon. She never met Catelyn Stark, so there was no way the red woman could have realized who Sansa truly was.

But then how did her vision come to be if she was revealed to be Sansa Stark all along and yet, still with Jon and pregnant with his babe? Maybe, maybe it has to do with Jon, Sansa thought, turning back to him. He looked so much like father though, the same grey eyes, long face and dark hair. But what if he was a produce of another Northmen’s blood, not her father’s.

“What?” Jon mumbled, seeing the questioning look in her eyes.

“Do you love me?” Sansa asked instead of voicing her true thoughts. She needed more time to think them over before saying anything. She needed to speak to the red woman once more.

Jon’s shoulders dropped with a deep sigh. “Of course, I love you,” he answered. She shook her head though.

“No, I mean do you love me like I love you.” Sansa watched as his mouth twisted into a flat line, his eyes dark and sad appearing. He looked defeated.

“Sansa, please.”

“Answer me, the least you can do is that.” He flinched at her sharp words then nodded, releasing another deep breath.

“Aye…I do love you,” he mumbled his words quietly, his eyes down casted to the ground. “I love you far more than is right, far more than any brother should love his sister. But I still do…”

Sansa approached him once more, placing her hands gently against his chest where she could feel how fast his heart thumped within. She peered into his sad eyes with her eyes shining brightly and a smile gracing her lips.

“Wed me, Jon Snow.” He couldn’t hide the tiny smile lifting his cheeks at her soft words. It eased the pain that had once flowed so easily through her being. To know he loved her like she loved him helped to heal the pain of their earlier fight.

“I have a duty here though,” Jon stated though he didn’t sound so convinced of it. _Then convince him otherwise._

“You have a duty to protect your sister, I think that duty outweighs the one at the Wall. The only way you can protect me is by wedding me, it is the only safest route we can take right now,” Sansa insisted. She rubbed her thumbs up and down his leather jerkin, pleading with her eyes that he accept his true duty to her.

Jon’s brow crinkled down in thought, his eyes glazed over in that far away thought. Sansa took the plunge and leaned up into him, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. He sighed into the kiss, letting her keep them connected for a few moments before she pulled away.

“Will you…will you marry me, Alayne Stone?” Jon finally asked, pulling back from her to drop down to one knee with one of her hands held sweetly in his hand.

Sansa smiled at his gesture, knowing that he only did it for her as there was no one but them in the room. She nodded quickly, squeezing his hand. “Yes, I would love nothing more,” she answered.

Jon stood up, embracing her tightly to him. Sansa nuzzled into his jaw and shoulder, clutching at him tightly as though he would disappear. “Everything will be alright,” she assured him, blushing when he nuzzled his nose at her temple lovingly.

“I’ll protect you, I promise,” Jon said into her dark hair, breathing her scent in and giving her a sense of warmth and safety that she had not felt since leaving Winterfell…

\--------------------------------------

Sansa smiled as she was escorted by Jon down to the courtyard, her arm wrapped around his. He had spoken to Stannis the very next morning after his sweet proposal. The King was very happy by the announcement and had thus declared Jon as a Stark at breakfast. Sansa opted to eat in her chambers though, not wanting to cause a ruckus if the men knew he would be wedding her as well.

Once everything was said and done, Jon came to retrieve her. Later that day the men at the Wall would vote for their next Lord Commander to replace him. He had already thrown his vote in for Ed and Sansa couldn’t agree more. The leadership position could only help him grow, she thought.

She took notice of Stannis out in the courtyard already, speaking to his men with a happier demeanor than usual. Clearly their decision lifted his spirits. As they made their way to the slush covered ground of the courtyard, a horn blared overhead and shouts to open the gate echoed around them.

“More travelers?” Jon questioned to himself, leading her over to see.

The air in her lungs constricted tightly when the gates opened to reveal who it was. More of Stannis’ men, but there were two others with them.

Brienne and Pod.

Both looked worse for wear with torn clothes and blood and dirt, but both were still alive. Sansa was so relieved to see them alive, but then fear replaced that relief as the situation she found herself in came to the forefront of her mind. Both her companions knew her identity though she knew both wouldn’t out her for her safety that they vowed to her.

“Are these your companions, my lady?” one of Stannis’ men asked, leading Brienne and Pod to them.

“Yes, it is,” Sansa answered, smiling happily though there was nothing but turmoil boiling in her stomach. “I am so glad you both are alright.”

Pod smiled brightly, but Brienne nodded stiffly, her eyes glued to Sansa’s hand wrapped around Jon’s arm. She watched as the tall woman arched a brow at her, but she could only smile. Then Jon leaned down to press his lips to her temple briefly and Sansa could see the widening of Brienne's eyes at the gesture.

It was like she went from one boiling pot to the next and she wasn’t sure how to navigate this situation anymore. Jon will protect me though, we can protect each other, she sternly thought, yet that left the question…

For how long?

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, now we got a bit of Jon's inner turmoil going on with Stannis putting the pressure on both him and Sansa. There's that moment of angst between them that'll continue to go up and down between Jon and Sansa with what they both want verses what is right. Sansa is only on the tip of wondering about Jon's true parentage with Mel's vision leading the way. And finally! Brienne and Pod are back and well! They will both add more turmoil to the situation at large. 
> 
> I do have an idea of where I am kind of going, it'll essentially follow canon (show-wise), but with obvious twists and turns. I am starting to realize more and more that this story might be a long-haul one. I originally thought it'd be 5 or 6 chapters, but now I'm leaning towards beyond 10, but we will see! Thank y'all so much for your patience and please, let me know whatcha think!? ^_~


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! It's been a few weeks since the last update. I had to collect what exactly I wanted for this chapter and I didn't actually know what I was doing either. Same will go for chapter 7, but I do have the basis of what I am doing with this story, so hopefully the next chapter will come quicker than this one (or the last one). 
> 
> That being said, please enjoy the update!! ^_~

 

 

The men didn’t take the announcement of Jon leaving the Wall and his command so well. He endured the shouting, the anger, and the curses thrown his way. Jon merely stood aside while Stannis overcame the ruckus, declaring him as Jon Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden in the North.

Jon allowed Stannis to voice his wishes, demand their fealty and declared that there would be a vote later that afternoon for the position of Lord Commander. He avoided looking at any of the men that had been his brothers at the Wall. He even ignored Thorne when he commented, “Once a bastard, always a bastard,” as he walked by him and out of the eating hall.

“I’m glad that you took our King’s offer. I know it’s an honor to serve at the Wall, but you will find greater honor in serving your King,” Davos said brightly, clapping a hand onto Jon’s shoulder. He wasn’t so sure though.

“I assume we will see,” Jon mumbled back, giving the older man a tight grimace of a smile then proceeded to his solar to finish up some last-minute work before fetching Sansa-fetching Alayne.

Jon grunted at his misstep. It was going to take a while for him to replace Sansa’s name with Alayne. He couldn’t afford to mess up around anyone. Sansa even told him to always refer to her as Alayne even when it was just them.

“It’ll make it easier to not slip up,” she stated softly, running her fingers through his beard as she gazed at him.

It still didn’t make things easier though.

Jon had barely gotten a glance at any paperwork before there was a knock on his door. Internally groaning, he answered for whomever to enter and wasn’t at all shocked to see Stannis opening his door.

“I told you the men would not be happy,” Jon stated glumly, setting aside his quill to give the King his full attention.

Stannis scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “I don’t care for what any of these men think, so long as they stand aside and let me go about my way that is.” He then sat across from Jon, a sense of déjà vu coming over him. “Are you terribly busy?” Stannis then asked, crossing one leg over the other with his hands placed over each side of the chair.

Jon glanced between the piles of paper on one side of his desk then back at the King with an arched brow. “Not terribly,” he answered sarcastically.

“Good, I believe after the vote you and Alayne should go to the Sept to be wed immediately.” Jon startled, his eyes blinking rapidly as he took in what was said to him. Immediately? Eddard Stark’s words still haunted him even though he accepted Stannis’ offer, and even though he loved Sansa more than was right.

He just couldn’t shake the guilt burrowing down between his shoulders. The wrongness of their love yet the feeling of right that came with it. Jon felt so conflicted and torn, but he couldn’t allow Sansa to be taken or hurt, not even by him. Yet, he had hoped that any marriage could wait until after the war or at least, until after Winterfell was taken back.

With that thought in mind, Jon spoke, “I go by the Old Gods, your grace, as did my father before me. It would not be right to wed before the Seven when I do not hold any belief in them.”

Stannis frowned, but nodded. “Understandable then we can ride out to the heart tree beyond the Wall if we must.”

Jon quickly shook his head. “Your grace, it is dangerous beyond the Wall. There was still many Wildlings about and I will not endanger my future wife that way. If it pleases you, I wish for us to wed beneath the heart tree in Winterfell.”

“It could be moons before we retake Winterfell, Stark. I highly advise against waiting especially if you wish to get her with child before the war,” Stannis said sternly, his frown severely etched into his face.

Get her with child.

Jon swallowed thickly, the vision of Sansa round with his child overtook him. The image was very pleasing even though he knew it was wrong to think so. I have to keep up the façade, Jon thought stiffly.

“I understand, your grace, I will keep that in mind.”

Stannis went on to talk about them leaving in a fortnight to start his campaign throughout the North to gain more men and Lords on his side. They would then eradicate the Boltons from Winterfell and proceed on to take back Riverrun as well. He even commented a certain level of revenge on the Freys for their wrong doing and going back on guest rights with the Starks. Jon nodded along to Stannis’ ideas, giving his thoughts whenever prompted before he was left alone once more.

He wasn’t left in peace though. Stannis gave him a parting bit of advice.

“If I were you, I would make sure to quickly wed and bed Alayne Stone before we set off on my campaign, not after.”

Jon sighed deeply, rubbing the bridge of his nose. It was always, always stressful when he had to deal with that man. Wed her and bed her. The urge was there, so very present and persistent, but so was the guilt and the disgust with himself. He couldn’t find disgust with Sansa, she was innocent. Clearly, all that time spent in the presence of Lannisters had affected her mind, or so he kept telling himself.

He couldn’t see how she could love him as she does. Memories of their relationship in Winterfell were left with much to be desired. When Sansa was younger, she was more open to playing with him, but as she got older, she distanced herself from him. Especially after the kiss. Jon groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. He really needed to stop over hashing this.

I made a decision and I will not go back on it, he thought sternly, squaring his shoulders as he sat up straighter in his seat. That didn’t keep his guilt at bay though. Jon supposed it was just something he was going to have to deal with for now on.

Jon eventually left his solar to pick up Alayne. The weather had taken a turn for the better with much of the snow melting away to slush with a warmer sun bearing down on them and a cool breeze blowing through the air.

Alayne looked beautiful as always. Her hair was pulled back from her face, but left hanging down her back. She wore the same dress as she had arrived in, but it was clean.

“You look…beautiful,” Jon uttered, enjoying the smile that took over her lips at his compliment.

“Thank you, my lord,” Alayne said softly, giving him a curtsy that reminded him so much of a young Sansa. She looked up through her lashes and that look shook him to his core. Heat welled up his body, making his cheeks flush.

“Would you c-care to take a stroll?” Jon stumbled over his question, flushing further. Alayne smiled even brighter though he wasn’t sure if it was from his stumble or his question.

“I’d love too.”

Her hand wrapped around his arm felt so right as he led her down the steps to the courtyard. Jon ignored the many looks directed their way, knowing exactly what they saw and thought. There was a bit of a hollowness in his chest at the thought of leaving his post the way he has, but it was to protect someone important to him, someone he loved.

Alayne commented on the weather, tightening her grip on his arm sweetly. They both agreed not to provide to much affection in front of the men at the Wall. No need to aggravate them anymore than they already had.

A horn blared overhead, causing Jon to stop in his tracks. The call to open the gates was announced soon after. That meant some of Stannis’ men were back from their scouting. “More travelers?” Jon questioned to himself, walking towards the gates and leading them over to see.

Alayne gasped softly by his side when there were two dirty travelers led in by Stannis’ men. One was a very tall, blonde, plated like a knight with a sword by their side. Jon wasn’t sure if it was a woman or man with their crooked nose, but the bright blue eyes spoke woman to him. Beside the woman (?) was a man of shorter stature with a curious look in his eyes and a smile on his face.

“Are these your companions, my lady?” one of Stannis’ men asked, leading the two travelers to them.

“Yes, it is,” Alayne answered, seeming to smile happily at them though Jon could see the strain around her eyes and mouth. If these two were her companions, then they knew her identity and that meant their plan could be in danger. “I am so glad you both are alright,” Alayne added, sounding much more believable to his ears.

The shorter man continued to smile brightly while the woman nodded almost stiffly to Jon’s eyes. She eyed the closeness between them, so in a bid to not have her out Alayne’s true identity, Jon leaned down, pressing his lips to Alayne’s temple briefly. He didn’t miss the way the woman’s eyes widen at the gesture, but she seemed to know to keep her mouth shut.

“My lord, this is Brienne of Tarth and Podrick Payne, my two companions that kept me safe during my journey here,” Alayne stated softly, giving his arm a tight squeeze then she continued on, “and this is Jon Stark, soon to be Lord of Winterfell and Warden in the North.”

“So, these are your traveling companions, my lady. A woman knight and a useless squire? It’s no wonder you were met with trouble on your way.” Jon frowned at Stannis’ words as he came forward, giving the two a stare down. “You were apart of Renly’s guard. Brienne of Tarth, I’m surprised to see you here and traveling with a bastard girl at that.”

The ever tighter hold Alayne had on his arm informed him of her fear. Quickly, Jon stepped in, angling himself slightly in front of her in a clearly protective stance. “Does it really matter who they were traveling with?”

Stannis turned to him, brow arched high up his forehead. “Travelling or escorting?” he questioned back.

“Both,” Brienne answered swiftly. “We came across Lady Stone in a tavern where she served food and drink in exchange for lodging. She told us she believed her wayward father was located further North at Eastwatch, but she was fearfully going alone during such a time, so I offered myself and Podrick as escorts up North.”

Stannis wrinkled his nose, before nodding. “I see, well I will be the first to inform you that your duty to Lady Stone is now done. Instead, you will bow down to me as your King and serve in my army.”

Jon could tell neither Brienne nor Pod were very happy with the proposition given to them.

“And if we were to say ‘no’,” Brienne inquired with an edge of anger in her tone.

“Then you may leave the same way you came,” Stannis answered unsympathetically, crossing his arms over his chest almost smugly.

“Please, your grace, at least allow them to rest and eat,” Alayne begged, coming forward quickly. Jon fought the urge to pull her back to him, to curl his arms around her body protectively.

He almost opened his mouth to inquire further before Stannis said, “Very well; eat and rest and begone after.”

Jon stood by while the two were escorted to the eating hall. Alayne quickly wrapped her arm around his once more, tugging him back up the stairs they had only just gotten down from a couple of minutes earlier.

“I need to speak with Brienne and Pod,” she said quietly.

Jon nodded, mumbling back, “I think I can arrange for that.”

\--------------------------------------

Sansa paced around her room, waiting anxiously for Jon to retrieve Brienne and Pod for her. She was nervous about what to say to them. What would they think when she tells them the plan she developed while in their absence? What would they do if a marriage truly happened between her and Jon?

Brienne was extremely honorable and protective. Sansa wouldn’t put it past her to be disgusted by the idea and wish to whisk her away from here. Podrick tended to go with the flow, giving his opinion when it was needed and a smile when that was needed. Yet, she was sure even he would give pause to the idea of her and Jon wedding.

Shame and anger at herself came over her. How stupid could she be to not remember that Brienne and Pod would be coming? How could she so easily have forgotten her companions? Sansa sighed, dropping down to seat on her bed with her head in her hands. They hadn’t entirely thought this through, it seemed. She was just so consumed by her attraction to Jon and Melisandre’s vision, and even Stannis and his proposition.

So many things happened in such a short amount of time. Sansa was still having a hard time wrapping her head around it. Now, she had to contend with her companions knowing her true identity and hoping they would go along with her plan.

A knock at her door startled her out of her deep thoughts. She called out for them to enter and produced a smile when Brienne and Pod came through with Jon behind them. Immediately, Sansa stood and embraced the older woman tightly. She then hugged Pod just as tightly. Relief helped to ease the anxiety she was feeling earlier. Truly, it was a happy occasion that they were still alive after the ambush.

“It is so nice to see you again, my lady,” Brienne said softly, smiling as she looked her up and down.

“It is good to see you both alive and well. I feared the worse when I was separated from you both. I’m glad my fear was for nothing though.” Pod smiled brightly.

“It will take more than Bolton patrols to take us down,” he stated confidently though Brienne shook her head at him.

“Regardless, I’m glad you both made it out alive.” Brienne nodded though her eyes moved to catch Jon moving towards the window to look outside. Sansa could see the curious look on her face regarding her half-brother. “There is much that we need to discuss,” she added, drawing her lady knight’s attention back to her.

“I assume so,” she answered back, moving to sit as Sansa directed them both.

She moved to stand before them, glancing over to see Jon keeping his back to them, trying to give some privacy without leaving the room entirely. Sansa turned back to her two companions then she laid out the story that she concocted in her head.

She told them of her arrival here with an escort after being recused by the Bolton patrols. Brienne frowned deeply, her hands curled into fists that told of her anger towards those men and possibly towards herself for not being there to protect her as promised. Sansa made a note to assure her lady knight that she did everything she possibly could and there was no fault on her end.

Her story continued with Stannis’ proposition and her fear of having no where else to go. “I didn’t know what have become of you both, and I feared I was alone.” Sansa glanced over at Jon, his head had turned slightly, so she could make out the tight frown on his lips. “So, I…I…” she turned back to Brienne and Pod, “I pushed Jon to accept the proposition Stannis presented to him. That I, as Alayne Stone, would wed Jon Snow who in turn would become Jon Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden in the North.”

“But you’re not Alayne Stone, Sansa. This is preposterous! You both are siblings!” Brienne stated sternly, turning a glaring eye on Jon. She could see how stiff his shoulders were beneath his furs. She could tell how affected he was by Brienne’s words.

“It was the only way, Brienne! Otherwise I would have been sent out to Moletown and without either of you to protect me. Or, if I did announce myself as Sansa Stark then Stannis would insist I do my duty and wed some man of his choosing. I had to make a decision.” Sansa could tell she still didn’t understand why it was this decision. Brienne pursed her lips together tightly.

“What will you do when King Stannis insists you wed?” Podrick asked quietly and silence reign afterwards.

“We won’t consummate the marriage,” Jon answered, turning around to gaze upon them. Sansa felt her face heat up, the urge to tell him that they will because she wanted to so much came over her, but she held her tongue. Now was not the time.

“You can’t stay as Alayne Stone forever. You eventually will have to come forth as Sansa Stark, what then?” Brienne questioned further, glancing between the two of them.

Sansa wanted to tell her lady knight about the vision Melisandre had, but she didn’t wish to voice it in front of Jon just yet. He had stated his piece on what he thought of the red woman last night and it had taken so much energy for her to convince him to go through with this whole thing. If he had an inkling that Melisandre had a hand in Sansa’s decision, then he’d halt everything.

She couldn’t let him do that.

“For now, Jon is protecting me the best way he can. He’s holding my title until there is a good time for me to come forth as Sansa Stark. It’s all pretend until then.” Brienne looked less then convinced of it, her face drawn into a deep-set frown with her blue eyes narrowed in thought.

After a moment, she sighed, her shoulders slumping in mild defeat. “I suppose we will have to accept Stannis’ offer as well.”

“What?” Pod asked in confusion, whipping around to face Brienne.

“I made a vow to Lady Catelyn that I would protect you and that means staying by you, no matter what.” Sansa smiled, but she could tell that this was not the end of this discussion between them.

“Then I guess we should go and tell him?” Pod inquired, following Brienne when she stood up. They both nodded to Sansa and Jon then proceeded out of the room.

Sansa sighed softly when they left, her shoulders dropping in relief. That had gone a bit more smoothly than she initially thought it would. There was still going to be some hiccups along the way, but as long as those two kept the information they knew to themselves then everything would be alright.

“Your lady knight brings up a good point, Sansa,” Jon said solemnly, drawing her eyes over to him. “You can’t pretend to be my wife forever, eventually you will have to come forth and there will be hard questions to answer then.”

“I know that, Jon. It won’t be you under the scrutinize either, it’ll be me, but that is a sacrifice I am willing to take for not only my protection, but for my love for you.” Sansa stared into his eyes deeply, urging him to see that their love was worth the heartaches to come. Wishing for him to see that she would gladly pretend to be Alayne Stone for the rest of her days if that meant she could be with him.

Jon glanced away. She noted that his hands were clenched into tightly wind fists and his facial expression showed his guilt. She walked up to him, placing both hands on his face to direct his gaze back to her. Her thumbs rubbed up and down his beard covered cheeks.

“If I have to give up my true born name to be with you then I will; gladly. I love you, Jon, no one else but you.” Jon’s eyes turned glossy, but his lips turned up in a soft, genuine smile. His hands came up to cover her own, his calloused fingers gently caressing her skin.

“I love you as well…I just…wish there was a way you didn’t have to be someone else,” Jon said quietly, drawing his hands down to grasp loosely at her wrists.

“We’ll find a way.” Sansa smiled, pulling him towards her until they were kissing softly.

His lips were so sweet and soft, Sansa couldn’t get enough of them. She kept him tethered to her, swallowing his moans and pressing herself tightly to his front. Jon groaned deeply in his chest, vibrating deliciously against her breasts through his jerkin. His tongue slipped past his lips, tracing the soft seam of hers before plunging past.

Sansa moaned at the taste of his tongue in her mouth. Spongy and wet, it ghosted along her tongue and engaged it in a battle of sorts. Jon’s hands slid down further from her wrists to her elbows then shoulders before dropping down her back to grip her waist tightly. She kept a firmly hold on his face, keeping him right where she wanted him as they all but devoured each other’s lips.

Suddenly, one of his hands swept downward to caress her bottom before closing his fist tightly around one cheek. Sansa whimpered at the touch, sighing into the prolonged kiss between them. This was everything she wanted and more; so much more. She wished there was no clothes between them, that only their flesh was flushed together. She wished they were in her bed and Jon was above her, inside her, possessing her. A wetness was forming between her thighs, slowly soaking her smallclothes.

Sansa pulled back slightly, slipping his tongue from her mouth, so she could close her teeth around his bottom lip. Jon practically growled at the bite and when her eyes opened, she found his completely blown and dark with desire. His hand gripped her bottom cheek tightly in response.

“Take me to bed, Jon,” Sansa finally voiced her desire along with rubbing her abdomen against his harden cock. “Make me yours.”

Jon whined at her husky voice, but his head shook ‘no’. “We can’t,” he stated roughly, his northern accent far deeper and harsher than before. It made tingles of pleasure ripple beneath her skin.

“Why not? I love you and you love me. Why can’t we make love together?” Sansa questioned confusedly, continuing to rub herself against him.

Finally, Jon pulled back from her, stepping away to keep them from moving back into each other’s embrace. “You must remain a maid until you are wed…until we wed…”

“When will we be wed then?” Jon averted his eyes to the floor. “Jon.”

“I told Stannis that we will wed in the godswood in Winterfell.”

Sansa frowned deeply, lust and desire slowly evaporating from her mind as she regarded him. “But it could be moons before Winterfell is taken, if at all,” she stated bluntly.

“I know.”

“You know, but the sooner we are wed the better. Is there not a weirwood north of the Wall? I thought I heard-I will not take you beyond the Wall.” Sansa frowned at being cut off. Jon fixed a stern stare on her.

“It is far too dangerous beyond the Wall. The Wildlings are still about and…after what happened, I would not even entertain the thought of going out there myself, much less take you.” The look of pain, guilt, and fear eased her bout of anger. She’d heard whispers about Jon’s time among the Wildlings, but never anything substantial.

She wished to know more, but she also didn’t want to pressure him either.

Slowly, she nodded her understanding. “Alright then, but Jon, we must be wed soon. My place here beside you will be questioned otherwise.” I’ll be unprotected without your name attached to me, Sansa thought fearfully. Jon seemed to hear her thoughts though.

“No one will question it, I’ll make sure everyone knows of the betrothal between Alayne Stone and I.”

“It would be better if we wed instead,” she mumbled while crossing her arms.

Jon gave her a tense smile. “Until then, you must remain a maid.”

“I’m a bastard, Jon and bastards don’t remain maids until marriage.” She watched as his eyes closed tightly, obviously aggravated by her persistence. “We will see,” she finally accepted though she could tell that her answer still didn’t settle well with him.

“I have some work I need done before the vote. I’ll escort you to dinner tonight afterwards.” Jon walked up to her, gazing softly into her eyes then pressed a lingering kiss on her forehead.

Sansa would have much preferred a kiss on the lips, but it was sweet and loving; nonetheless.

She watched him go, leaving behind a very sexually frustrated Sansa…

\--------------------------------------

The days afterwards continued on the same with Jon. He was okay with kissing, but once things got further physical, he would put a stop to it. Sansa was growing more and more frustrated with him during each occasion. The thought of promptly straddling him in the eating hall came to her a few times, but not even base born Alayne would do such a thing.

Stannis was verging on a smile during the coming days of his departure from the Wall for his campaign. He accepted Brienne and Podrick into his army and most likely, thoroughly enjoyed having them kneel before him and swear their fealty to him. Brienne didn’t like the situation one bit, but she endured for Sansa.

She truly appreciated her lady knight for doing this even though she was completely uncomfortable with taking orders from Stannis Baratheon and even less of the situation Sansa was in. Yet, they hadn’t gotten a chance to talk privately with the on-going training and also, Sansa tended to make herself unavailable as well.

She wasn’t looking forward to their talk.

Sansa was in her chambers, repairing clothes for the soldiers as for something to do and be helpful towards when she was interrupted. She got up from her chair, setting down the breeches she was repairing to see who was at her door.

Melisandre smiled alluringly, her red eyes peering into Sansa’s eyes. “Hello, my lady,” she greeted with her strange accent. “May I enter?”

“Of course, please come in,” Sansa answered, stepping back to let the red woman in.

She hadn’t seen the woman in quite a few days and wondered if she was still at the Castle Black at all. Sansa shut the door softly then turned to find the other red-haired woman standing in the middle of the room, gazing back at her. Her unblinking stare was rather unsettling to Sansa.

“Was there something you needed? Clothes repaired perhaps?” Sansa walked over to pour some ale into a mug for Melisandre. She smiled in thanks, taking the mug, but not drinking from it.

“I’m afraid not. I’m here to tell you of terrible visions I have been having,” Melisandre stated ominously, placing the mug down to approach Sansa. “Trouble is brewing in this very place, anger and resentment. I fear something terrible will happen soon.”

“What terrible thing?” Sansa questioned, fear erupting inside her chest. The thought of Jon hurt or dying came to her causing her heart to beat heavily.

“I am not sure, the vision is not very clear right now,” Melisandre answered quietly, turning away to set her eyes on one of the candles lit in the room. “I do know one thing though,” she continued, turning to capture Sansa’s eyes once more, “you must get Jon Snow to bed you before he leaves with Stannis in three days’ time.”

Sansa frowned, shaking her head defeatedly. “He won’t bed me before the wedding and we won’t wed until Winterfell is taken from the Boltons.”

“Then you must convince him otherwise, my lady. Trouble is coming, and I am sure that he will be at the center of it. You must get him to bed you, fill you with his seed and you will become pregnant,” Melisandre insisted, stepping closer to her as the sense of urgency came over her.

“How would you know if I would become pregnant after only once?” Sansa questioned skeptically, feeling like the air was far thinner than it really was. Why was it suddenly hard to breath? She felt a bit light headed.

“Because it only took once for you mother to become pregnant,” the red woman answered, sending a chill down Sansa’s back. Her mother had told her how she became pregnant on her wedding night. How could the red woman know that though? “Bed Jon and you will become pregnant.”

“Are you sure?” she inquired softly, clutching her hands in her skirts. “Are you sure that trouble is coming? Stannis is ready to wage war on the Boltons first, are you sure you are not misinterpreting your visions?”

“War is coming, I know, but what I am feeling and seeing has nothing to do with war and all to do with the Wall. Heed my warning, my lady, or my vision of you with child will not come to be,” Melisandre vowed, placing a chilled hand on Sansa’s shoulder before she moved to exit the room.

Sansa turned to follow her out when Brienne came around the corner. “Lady Brienne,” Melisandre greeted, her smile just edging on a smirk.

“Melisandre,” Brienne greeted back, her face pinched in a way that showed her displeasure with the other woman, but without completely showing it. The red woman nodded her head then proceeded down the hall.

“Brienne-Can I talk to you, privately?” Brienne said quickly, cutting Sansa off. She nodded, waving her lady knight in then shutting the door once more.

Sansa felt her anxiety rise as she noticed that Brienne was tense. Her shoulders were bunched up, her hands curled into fists, and her face still pinched. It was time they had their private talk, it seemed.

“Do you believe her?” Brienne questioned abruptly.

“Excuse me?” Sansa mumbled, arching a brow in confusion at the strange question.

“I heard…I accidentally eavesdropped on your conversation with her. Sansa, really, this is madness! She wants you to get pregnant by your brother! She knows who you are and still she insists! And you,” Brienne paused, covering her mouth as she realized how loud her voice had become. “And you seem to agree with her. Why?”

Sansa pursed her lips together, closing her eyes in hope of calming the raging storm of tension inside her. Breathing slowly through her nose, she opened her eyes to take in the distress in Brienne’s face and stance.

“She deduced who I was without ever meeting my mother face-to-face. She said that she had a vision that I was pregnant with Jon by my side but as Sansa Stark and not as Alayne Stone. I know this seems crazy, Brienne, but I think there’s more to it than what were seeing.” Sansa winced at the frown on her lady knight’s lips. Clearly, she didn’t understand at all.

“All I see is you being manipulated into committing incest and for what? What could you possibly gain by going through with this? And don’t think I don’t see it, the way he looks at you or the looks you give to him…Sansa…it’s not right.” Brienne stepped closer to her, taking hold of her hands. “Please, think this through with a clear mind. You said this was all pretend, but it…it doesn’t seem like it is. It seems like you can’t pretend…” she drifted off, giving Sansa’s hands a tight squeeze.

“You don’t understand.”

“We can leave for Eastwatch now. You, me and Pod. Stannis has Jon where he wants him, and I can protect you.” Sansa shook her head, yanking her hands from Brienne.

“You don’t understand!” she said again, her eyes watering.

“I can protect you!”

“Not like he can!” Sansa countered, stepping back from Brienne for much needed space. “Not the same way he can.”

Brienne merely shook her head, her own eyes watering as well. She then said disgustedly, “but he’s your half-brother.”

Sansa glanced down, feeling the tears in her eyes trail down her cheeks. Turmoil rolled around in her stomach while her head was pounding. There was so much going on, so much happening. Then the thought came to her; a clarity in the sight of madness.

“But what if he isn’t…”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh! Jon and Brienne said the story title, guess that means the story is over!
> 
> Lol, jk, jk. So, Jon postpones the 'I do's' because of his guilt, Sansa wants some sexual gratification, Melisandre wants Sansa to have her sexual gratification (lol), and Brienne is about up to here with the madness around her. Poor woman. Trouble is brewing (can we guess what exactly?) and Sansa must become pregnant because of it. And finally, Sansa is slowly, but surely, piecing together RLJ. 
> 
> That's about what's going on for this chapter. Again, hopefully I'll get ideas going and figure out what the next installment will take us and I do have an idea, but I need to commit and write it down. Sorry there was no smut in this chapter but...there may be some in the next...hmmm...maybe? Let me know whatcha think?! ^_~


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